Devotion and Sacrifice
by Enigmatic Insignia
Summary: A century after Ciel's untimely death, Sebastian searches for a new master and finds Ciel's reincarnation by a fluke-but what at first seems like Sebastian's chance to fix what once went wrong soon threatens them both in a way he never foresaw. s/c
1. Failure

Chapter I: Failure

For an ending, it had always seemed anti-climactic. A kidnapping, a bullet and one mistake was all it had taken. Ciel Phantomhive was dead. Not even he could have changed that.

Despite what he had sworn that he would accomplish, Ciel never reached his goal. A single shot to the back of the neck, and a meal five years in the making was gone. It was such a mundane way to go, and to add even more reason for spite, it had happened while the boy was protecting that obnoxiously naive fiancée of his. Against what should have been better judgment, the boy charged recklessly into a situation that needed tact. For that reason, it was Ciel's fault to an extent, but that was still no excuse for not managing to rescue him in time. Where had he been that he couldn't have stopped it?

He couldn't recall the reason anymore.

He didn't want to believe it was his mistake, yet the more he resisted the idea, the more certain he became that it had to be. There must have been something he could have done differently to change the result. That was why he had chosen to forget it. Regrets had no place among his kind. It was disgrace enough to provided five years of thankless service to a cause that never came to fruition. The least he could do for his dignity was create a scenario in which the end had been beyond his control.

Time passed, as it always did. And, as much of a stock phrase as it was to claim, nothing was the same anymore.

As the decades rolled past, humankind continued to evolve. Superpowers rose and fell, pointless wars were waged, and countries began to reform themselves. Travel methods became more convenient, and countries forged enough opponents and alliances to encompass the entire world within their struggles—twice, no less. Nuclear warfare changed the nature in which the political stage would function on the surface. It was a drastic revolution, but the one thing it never changed was the nature of the individual.

Humans were fixated upon themselves and the supposed moral high ground that they were all fabricating. The ever changing world favored those with ambition, and those with ambition didn't aspire to philanthropy. Ready minds which shaped the modern age were marked by a selfish desire for instant gratification and little thought to the consequences.

When it struck his fancy to ascend to earth, creating a contract never took long. People practically jumped at the chance to have their dreams come true for the small price of a conceptual self they didn't understand. The trouble was that the task had become much too easy and the game still wasn't worth it. Humans had become such careless, unrefined scum that taking his sustenance felt like swallowing a pill, tasteless and ungratifying.

With each identity he created, he was becoming more selective with his targets. Not just any person would satisfy his appetite. A soul with ambition, with basic goals beyond greed, at the point of desperation, with just enough of a conscience to be aware of the consequences but driven enough not to care, that was the type of soul he craved, and none of the potential meals the world had to offer fit the standard. There was a reason his criteria had become so specific. Every time he thought about what he wanted to taste, his mind wandered back to that one he never got to try.

The name which he had been given by that boy suited him more than the others which he had been stuck with. Sebastian had lived in other identities, but he couldn't recall the way that it sounded when each of those masters made demands of him the way he could Ciel's.

It was a cliché to become so obsessed with "the one who got away", but it was nonetheless accurate to his situation. The boy _had_ slipped out, right from the middle of his clutches. More than the nature of the world over time, that was what had twisted him into regarding humanity with rising cynicism, and that cynicism was reaching another peak right about now.

The currently contract free demon had settled himself down in wait. He didn't anticipate anything exciting to take place within this gathering area. He was only here for two reasons, one of which was to waste as much time as he was able to spare. He was accomplishing that quite well by watching the crowd, but the people passing by just made him feel all the more apathetic.

The air was littered with noise, voices squawking the least refined slang that had touched his ears yet. The current generation either dressed sloppily in oversized outfits tailored for someone five times their size or what should have been underwear. They chattered away, using words that he could only wish he didn't know the meanings of. Long ago, he would have been annoyed. By now, he was accustomed enough to it that he passed by without looking their way.

He passed through the hallways of the indoor marketplace that humans referred to as a 'mall'. Mainly adolescents frequented it upon being released from government created facilities for (in most cases failing) education they continued to refer to as school. It was late enough in the day that there were some other adults there as well, so he didn't especially stand out among them, but they were still the minority in the sea of adolescents swarming the path. He paid that no mind as well while he continued on his way, his mind focused on his other reason for being here—to visit a dear friend.

Wide hetero-chromic eyes stared at him as he approached, one a pallid green and the other a smoky blue. As he came into her view, she stood up and approached the window. Her mouth opened to reveal the tops of her fangs, and her tail swayed behind her with so much force that it seemed to thump against one of the cardboard boxes set beside her in the display. Sebastian smiled through the window, gazing into the depths of her eyes in admiration. "Hello, Aurora. You are as lovely as always," he told her adoringly.

He'd happened on this pet store purely by accident, but ever since he'd found it, he made a point of coming to visit her for the past week or so. It was consistently the highlight of his day to spend those few brief moments in her presence, and she seemed to have taken enough to him that the same might apply.

Sebastian raised a finger up towards the glass and ran a finger across the surface, tracing the outline of a squiggle. Aurora watched intently, keeping her focus. She braced herself, wiggled her butt, and finally, pounced at the glass. Both of her paws attempted to grab the foreign object on the other side, their surfaces pressed against the clear panel.

It was moments like this that nearly made it tempting to take a master, if only for the excuse to keep a cat. Not all humans were allergic to these fluffy balls of sheer adorability as Ciel had been. Some even went so far as to _like_ them. One of his previous mistresses had. Sebastian could remember how much he with ended up despising that woman, but she was probably his favorite from the past century because of the cat. He was on the verge of melting. How could she be so adorable?

"Were I able to keep you, I would. It is a shame that my living arrangements would be beneath your standards," he told her. She mewed back.

There were no words within the human tongues to fully explain how much Sebastian wished that he could take a cat with him. In just a few short minutes, his time would inevitably end and he would need to report back home. It nearly made him wish that there might be an exploitable loophole by which he could stay here. This, come to think of it, could be arranged with relative ease.

It wasn't a loophole, not in the direct sense of the word, but it would be a reason. Not any person would do to be consumed, but he didn't need a delicacy. He could cope with someone less than satisfactory. So long as they didn't speak incessantly, and would be willing to keep a cat, they would do.

Sebastian lowered his hand when Aurora's enthusiasm seemed to drop. His fingers stilled against the window. Aurora closed her eyes and turned her head, rubbing her cheek against the glass affectionately. "Perhaps, by tomorrow, the circumstances will have changed."

The houses on Stony Brook Avenue were set directly in the middle of the suburban sector of the neighborhood. It took ten minutes in either direction to reach any sign of civilization other than a few local schools. Each house was cast into an idealized image from the outside. Not all of the families that lived in them were constructed in a way that could be viewed as typical, but they maintained a sense of cohesion in spite of this. Regardless of how that family was constructed, it formed a common ground. Every building on the street played host to at least one group of people that could constitute one, with a single exception.

A pale blue Victorian-style Gingerbread house with dark blue shutters and a white roof, labeled as number 103, stood on the corner of the street. The front garden was covered in white and gray stones, with the vegetation confined to three strategically placed tea-cup shaped flower pots to add color to the otherwise plain display. The driveway was nearly always empty and the door on the free-standing garage rarely moved. The latest standard dinner time of seven in the evening would pass, and it never brightened with the signs of life the other houses consistently showed.. As far as the neighbors were concerned, this house may as well have been lived in by ghosts. To one boy, it was the only place he had to go.

The straps of strained plastic bags dug further into the creases of his hands with each step. He trudged along, taunted by the sound of rustling every time he swayed on accident. When he turned around the corner of the street and his house came into full view, he was filled with a sense of relief, if only because it meant he would be able to put everything down soon. With newfound motivation, he let out a short sigh, and marched forward, listening to music through his headphones as he trudged on.

He walked around the edge of the house to enter at the back door. Once there, he set down half of the bags to free up his right hand, and reached into the pocket of his jacket to take out his key. As he leaned down, a silhouette in the window caught his eye. An indistinct lump stretched up to peek at the source of the noise. Before he had the chance to get a second look, she had already jumped away. He presumed he knew why.

As he anticipated would be the case, he was greeted at the door with the same, single face that paid him any attention on a consistent basis. For a passing moment, the sight of her brought a melancholy, hesitant smile upon his face. He pulled the key out of the door's handle, picked the bags up, brought them into the hallway and shut the door.

As he took off his shoes and tossed them into a nearby closet, wide, begging eyes looked up to him with such adoration that he needed to spare a moment to pat her on the head. "Good afternoon, Laylie," he greeted with slightly more spirit than he ever would have used if in the presence of a person. It was a forced happiness, but it was strong enough that it seemed to satisfy her.

He put his keys into their designated basket, dropped his school bag by the front door and yawned into his sleeve while he walked away. Eulalie, the household cat, obediently followed along behind him to oversee his actions.

He dragged the bags of groceries to the kitchen table and set them down beside the pile of bills that he planned to write over the weekend. He reached into the first bag on the table to put the meat away first, and unpacked everything else after. Roughly a song and a half of work later, he was finished. He put the plastic bags away so the cat couldn't try to eat them and left the kitchen. He walked up the stairs, took a turn towards the right, and stopped at the door on the very end of the hall.

In contrast to the size of the house, the room was notably cramped. There was literally a walk-in closet in the home that was bigger than this, but the space was still his, so he made the best of it. The three walls facing opposite the door had been shaded with a pale teal, and the remaining wall was black, covered in sketches and graphs scrawled in varying vibrant colors of chalk. Black curtains were drawn across the windows to blocking out the sunshine. There was a day bed tucked into a corner, a book case beside it, and a work desk with a small television and a VHS player was pressed against the wall on the opposite side.

He pushed past the narrow opening between the door and his desk, and turned towards the closet. He opened up the sliding door and pulled out a green storage bin. He snatched two bags of supplies from the inside before shutting the door and taking a seat at the desk.

With a quick reach upwards, he turned on the dim light above the desk and arranged his project. Inside of the larger storage bag, there was a decorative flower with painted edge. He took a needle strung with jewelry cording, stabbed through the flower, and slipped a series of beads through it. He synchronized with the music he was listening to while he fell into a calm repetition. As he worked, the battery of his mp3 player started to die. He replaced the background noise by turning on the tv and putting on an old movie that he wouldn't need to pay attention to in order to remember.

Hours passed by on the digital clock, a rough image of the passage of time relayed with the progression of the film. Cian had watched this particular one so many times that maintaining eye contact with the screen was far from a necessity to know exactly what was going on. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die," he recited along almost sub-consciously along with the movie as it played through.

At the back of his mind, he knew his neighbors were certain to have arrived home and already finished eating long ago. The thought of sitting down for a decent dinner hadn't occurred to him, and it wouldn't, either. Each second was consumed with the needle, beads and those same few repeated words.

The VCR automatically started to whir when the tape reached its conclusion. He rose from his seat, opened the window, and overlooked the impending weather of a mid October evening. Not even a single cloud rest upon the evacuated horizon. The blur of illuminated street lamps kept the moon or stars from shining. If he hadn't known there was supposed to be something up there, it would have seemed blank.

He looked towards the digital clock beside his bed. It was past eleven. To the vast majority, this would have served as a cue to go to bed. To him, those numbers meant it was nearly time to leave. He reached into the back of his closet and changed out of his school uniform into something more suitable for the intended task.

He turned off the lights and turned on the air purifier. On the entirely off chance that his father would decide to return home, a stuffed animal and a body pillow were positioned to look like he was sleeping. His father wouldn't bother to check beyond these precautions if he ever bothered to look in the first place, leaving him free to go about his business without question. He reached beneath the bed, grabbed the handle of his tote bag, and left the room. He kept the door open just wide enough that Eulalie would be able to leave if she needed to.

He stopped outside of the front closet and grabbed a long dim gray duster with a hood. He checked the inside left pocket and pulled out a ring with three keys on it, one of which was a copy of the key to the house. This allowed for him to leave his usual key behind, lying just where it was supposed to be. He was nothing if not meticulous. With that last potential issue attended to, he locked the door behind him and left.

While it was not entirely deserted, the suburban streets certainly came close to it within the dead of night. The air was brisk with an unexpected chill, and a light rain had begun to fall. The hood of his coat blocked the temperature from reaching his ears, but the remainder of his face wasn't nearly so immune. Raindrops hit against his nose and cheeks. He turned his head down to avoid the drizzle, huddled into his coat, and kept heading for his destination.

Soon enough, he happened upon what he was looking for. A wooden sign, painted in a shade of a dark green with golden embellishments that read 'St. Augustine's Church and School'. The sidewalks were marked with stones and plants guiding the way. The flowers had yet to wither, but the trees were showing tints of the warmer colors on the spectrum, casting signals of what would inevitably come.

The school had an entirely different atmosphere at night. He had never been here before after hours. It was so chaotic, loud and crowded in the day that it was a shock to know it could be so tranquil and desolate. He knew without a doubt that he was the only person here. Who else would bother? He wouldn't have come either, if he hadn't found one of the universal keys used by the janitorial staff a few days ago. He spun the key ring around his finger thoughtfully before clutching it in his hand and slipping it subtly up his sleeve. A good citizen was supposed to return such an important possession, but when someone had been so negligent as to lose track of it in the first place, he could safely assume he would be much more responsible with its use. It wasn't as if he was planning to do anything harmful. There was just something he wanted to try.

The church building stood out from the others due to the archway and pillars set above the front entry. Images of angels had been carved into the worn marble surface. An inscription had been at one point set beneath, but the Latin phrase had since been distorted and dirtied beyond the point of recognition. He pressed his hand to the front door. As he expected, it didn't budge. He set the key into the lock and twisted. The door released itself instantly, allowing him to get inside. He set the lock back behind him to ensure that no unwanted entrants would be able to trespass along with him and surveyed the chapel in privacy.

Stained glass windows lined each wall, most of them set within shades of varying dark blues and browns because of the dim to nonexistent lighting the night sky provided. To remedy this issue, he flipped the light switch beside the entryway, revealing the pews, aisle and altar as well. Each window presented another story in the same stylized, nearly nonsensical symbolism as the last had used. He walked along the center row, unbuttoning his jacket, but keeping it on for the time being. Despite being inside, the church was just as bitterly cold as the outdoors. He'd wait until the last minute to avoid a chill.

He brought out his supplies from the inside of the tote bag, and brought out a digital camera and a collapsible tri-pod. he searched through the lens until he found the proper angle to catch the light. The entire image was set in plain view, and the bulbs upon the ceiling were set in such a way that they illuminated the occasional speck of dust that might lift into the air. The visual was as close enough to what he imagined as it ever would be, so he took off the jacket, revealing what he was wearing beneath it.

There was a reason other than the weather he'd worn such a long, bulky coat. He hadn't wanted to reveal what he was wearing beneath it. He was dressed in a ruffled off-white shirt which dipped downwards at the back left side into what resembled a train with a few glass beads stitched along the edges, a navy blue vest with silver trim, matching shorts and covered boots. The collar of the vest had a layer of black lace set over the top of it, and the cuffs of the shorts matched. The rose pin which he had been creating earlier that evening was set into his hair. Overall, the outfit was intricate and embarrassingly effeminate.

If within the sight of others and distinguishable as himself, he never would have dared to dress in this. He would much rather this be worn by a girl, but he wanted to start getting shots to make a portfolio for college and it wasn't as if he was willing to ask anyone for a favor like this.

He approached the camera and tried to set the timer by twisting the designated dial only to discover the button was stuck even more stubbornly than he was. Twisting it was useless, and pulling created the risk of breaking it. With a sigh, he was forced to accept that it would take less of his time to click the button and allow the three minutes that the timer was set to elapse take place than it would to keep doing this. He pushed the button downwards, and the clock began to roll.

He followed the lens of the camera to ensure that he would set himself within the frame without standing directly in the way of it, and came to a stop when he found the correct location. Then, another issue arose. Posing for an image was acceptable and expected, but allowing it to be plain or forced wasn't. If he wanted a striking image, it had to appear natural and spontaneous. How would he be able to plan for that?

He noticed the stained glass window behind him. The ledge of the stained glass window was narrow, but it might be possible to balance on it if he positioned himself just right. He pulled himself up onto it, using his right leg to maintain his balance while his left dangled towards the floor. His visible eye faced the outside, and to create space, he set each of his hands upon his chest. It was his intention to lower his left shortly before the picture would snap to place the sleeve within view. For now, it was more comfortable to lean his cheek against the glass and lose his mind wherever it would wander

His surroundings at this moment made him uneasy. There were no fans set to whir, no birds chirping or cars speeding past the street. It was a full, perfect, still silence, and in it, the minutes dragged on forever.

Faces set within stained glass stared down upon him, fixated and smiling. He suspected that it had been designed with the intention of displaying joy. When he looked at it, he saw it as exuberant to the degree of being disingenuous, and in that smile, somehow he found maliciousness.

This whole building felt the same way. On the surface, it was beautiful, but it never felt right. The walls were built on what he thought of as the lies and delusions of organized religion. He couldn't bear the silence in a place like this, where so many people placed faith that he thought of as a joke. It was with intent of shattering that silence that the words first escaped the confines of his mind and entered the air.

"While I doubt that words so trivial would reach your ears, whomever you happen to be, if you happen to be, there are better places to set your focus," he spoke to the window in quiet confidence. It was a foolish act, because he knew the window wouldn't answer, but this was a rare opportunity to release what he thought without facing the repercussions of revealing his thoughts to someone else, so there didn't seem to be any outward harm in murmuring to himself.

"Should you still choose to overhear me, you're a disillusioned moron with far too much of an ego for your own good. You ask for worship, but what have you done right to deserve it? Your supposed position implies a duty you've neglected, and that negligence just brings us to disrepair. The few who bother to uphold morality are used as doormats for those who don't. Every day, people are desecrated and murdered in interpretations of your name, and what does it do? Thousands more are ravaged with diseases, droughts and famine, and what benefit does that draw? Even as a test of faith it degenerates into suffering. With the design of the world, everyone with something to offer has been made to pay for it. If it is a test, you're a sadist and a failure. Those who can watch the world and smile have learned to ignore it, and whether or not this is caused by their obliviousness or general stupidity depends on the person in question, but it's always there. You may claim that negativity has not been forged by your hands, but there is a point of mercy to redirect and intervene, which you adamantly refuse to take.

"Those who claim to speak your word say that society has strayed from your presence and is falling because of a change in ideals. What they fail to incorporate is the possibility that it should be inverted. Faith does not fade through science, logic or awareness. It is because of your disregard that it's not only impractical, but downright impossible, to think a being as useless as you is worthy of praise. For all that you've done, this may as well be hell itself, so why bother speaking to someone who doesn't care? Apathy is enough. You're at fault, and if you don't know it, it's only because you're too delusional to notice!"

Somewhere along the line, his emotions had begun to get involved. For someone who supposedly didn't care, his slandering had become quite impassioned. He could hear the echo of his words travel across the hall. It served as a reminder that he meant to be quiet, so he hushed his voice accordingly.

"If you aren't at fault and you've given up, take responsibility. Our mistakes are your mistakes, and to allow this to continue under the illusion that you didn't play a hand when you could prevent it does no good. You aren't merciful. You aren't even sane. If you're intent on letting us die, destroy us directly, and if you can't, then at least strike me down. And let it be known that I hold more faith in this world if I have spoken these words to the walls alone," he concluded solemnly.

His wait came to its end with the flicker of the flash bulb. His distraction had lead to him not keeping track of time. He had set his gaze upwards to the window's frame, out of direct focus, without so much as considering the pose that would result. If nothing else, the distraction had made his picture a natural one.

Those vindictive words couldn't travel far, but they remained. Spoken words held power when they were filled with strong emotions, drawing in the forces that thrived on the essence of what meaning they contained. Messages of criticism and blasphemy, saturated to the brim with negativity, served as a lure. It was not by God, but he had been heard.

The entity once known as Sebastian had taken to scavenging this evening. He'd initially intended to make a decision as quickly as possible when he'd first set out this afternoon only to be quickly reminded of how scarce suitable people were. It was difficult to find someone who could be read on the cover enough to guarantee that they wouldn't be a complete waste of his time, even when he was being mindful of his intended purpose more than his taste.

For the past few hours, he'd been listening to any and all pleas strong enough to reach his ears. Regardless of where they were on earth, he could hear them well enough to determine where they were and appear to investigate. It was a long process to go through and even worse when he was so selective, but it was something he couldn't help.

The voices kept forming at the same pace, pleading for someone to fulfill what they desired, and he'd been trying to listen to every one of them. Yet, at the same moment when that one individual had started to speak, everyone else was silenced. He remembered that voice. The accent was different, but the tone was identical, and it drew him forth like a magnet. No direct commands were being administered, merely complaints, but it was compelling enough of a sensation that before he was even fully aware of his actions, he'd already been drawn in to the vicinity it had come from.

Stepping foot inside of the church was fully within the realm of possibility, but not a pathway he wished to travel, so his watch was kept from a moderate distance, within a barren tree, facing the window. What he saw left him in awe.

There was no way for him to mistake that face. The similarities were so exact that there was no possible way it could be anyone else. A fragment of the past was sitting behind the window. Through some stroke of fate, Ciel was there.

The instant that Sebastian laid eyes on him, his hand began to burn in a fairly distinct patter that lead him to suspect what was happening. He pulled off his glove and looked down towards the back of his hand just in time to finish seeing the seal of a pact appear.

Sebastian had never heard of an instance such as this before. It was a rare circumstance that the soul of a human who would make a deal with a demon managed to escape. That a human who would take such a measure as to sell their soul would face a death that created redemption was even more so. Martyrdom and self-sacrifice was one of the most honorable actions to take upon one's final moments. It didn't negate all evil acts, but it did redeem, and apparently had done so to enough of a point that Ciel had been sent back down. He couldn't be admitted into heaven when he was still bound to fall, but he must have been cleansed just enough that someone would feel bad for damning him anyway, so the other powers that be sent him back.

It was the soul, not the body, which a demon would bind itself to. The previous conditions were no longer attainable within reason, and he would have expected that fact to negate everything. It didn't. Because it was a transfer of the soul to a new identity, the tie was still there. This may have been the very first recorded incident of an escaped soul reemerging.

The words wouldn't reach Ciel from the other side of the surface, but he formed them nonetheless. The words were enough to cause a chill to run through the boy's veins, causing a shiver that he attributed to the cold.

"Good night, young master."


	2. Charade

Chapter II : Charade

It was a saying that was prevalent among humans and shared among the standard guidelines of his fellows that playing with your food was a mistake. Meals were meant to be served and devoured, treated with minimalistic compassion and regarded as lesser beings. "Messing around" nearly always led to unnecessary complications. He had witnessed others in the past create their own undoing through doing so. By most forms of logic, the danger should have discouraged the idea, but as far as Sebastian was concerned that just it all the more exciting.

Besides, it was necessary that he take_ some_ sort of action about this new discovery. He couldn't just wait around to be called upon by a person who wouldn't even know that they could do such a thing, and there was no way for him to approach a person who wouldn't recognize or remember him, present the idea, and expect them to accept. Sebastian had never tried approaching a stranger and telling them that they were his master before, but he was under the distinct impression that sane humans didn't typically accept the occult so easily, and even the insane ones may have questioned a statement like that. As memorable of an impression as it would have left, he would need to do something that was far less blatant. A spontaneous appearance in the dead of night, in any shape or form, was in poor taste.

Furthermore, Sebastian couldn't assume that circumstances were the same. He had no way of knowing if the boy was wealthy enough to potentially have a butler. He couldn't even be sure that there weren't parents waiting for the boy at home. It felt strange to even take that into consideration, given the basis of their prior arrangements, but it was something that he had to question. Though the mark of a contract had reappeared on the back of his right hand, there were no terms to what obligations it would entail. He would have thought further about the implications of that if he wasn't so exhilarated by what was sure to follow.

In spite of how it may have sounded, none of this meant that he had to take his time approaching. On the contrary, the sooner he had the opportunity to begin learning about the subject, the better. If he just happened to have a bit of fun on the way, so be it. He knew well enough not to allow that to bring harm to himself.

Sebastian continued to keep watch through the window, holding a hand up towards the surface of the glass as he peered further inside the rather ironic setting for a first encounter. The flickering lights of burning candles were extinguished with a sudden swoop, darkening the room until no human could have seen through it.

No matter how many ways he chose to view the darkness, his options didn't change. The current era discouraged most forms of interaction between adults and young teens who weren't relatives, limiting his options until there was only one that could possibly suit his purposes. Troublesome as the remaining option was going to be, Sebastian had an idea as to how to approach it, and there was very little to gain from procrastination when so little nighttime remained.

With his plan in mind, Sebastian left the grounds, already anticipating what the orange hues of the rising sun on the horizon would bring. There was a novelty to facing a situation he'd never encountered before, and he could hardly wait for it to come to fruition. Fortunately enough for him, he had every reason to suspect that there would be very little waiting involved.

Due to a particularly late arrival back home last night and a number of unpleasant noises from the room next-door that he preferred not to recount, Cian had barely managed to get three hours of sleep. In that time, his concept of reality had been pulled away from him just enough to haunt his mind with flashes of cryptic imagery, but not deeply enough to block out a muffled voice from creeping into his ear. It was a far more unpleasant sound than his imagination could ever aspire to create- an alarm clock.

The sound of overly-enthusiastic chatter that could only be caused by a radio DJ after three espressos and two energy drinks crawled into his ear so deeply that he would have sworn he could hear it echo. It pounded at the front of his aching head, providing him with yet another nagging reminder that there were more practical ways to spend ones nights than taking snapshots- such as sleeping.

Most people, when frustrated, would have pressed upon the button at the top and either set it to snooze or turned it off. His approach was a little more direct. He grabbed the clock, yanked it towards the bed, taking the plug straight out of the socket that it had been inserted into in the process, and dropped it on the carpet. For a moment, the room fell completely silent. He would have been relieved by this if he wasn't too exhausted to have the capacity to experience an emotion like relief. It also may have helped if there wasn't a cat lying on his chest.

There were words to describe how much he wanted to stay in bed. Most of them were regarded as unrefined and he didn't care to repeat them. The point was that he was lacking in motivation and the nine pound weight that had decided to make an attempt at suffocating him with fur was really not helping matters. Why Eulalie insisted on sleeping directly on top of him, he never knew, and he suspected he never would. What he did get the pleasure of learning was that her weight put enough pressure on his chest to make his breathing unsteady and very uncomfortable.

Out of drowsiness, he raised a hand towards what he had guessed was the cat's face and tried to shoo her away. She nuzzled his hand, licked his fingers and started to purr, completely missing the point. Somehow, she managed to be even louder than the radio had been, yet again causing the white noise of the air purifier to be overlapped. Evidently, a few more moments of sleep was way too much for him to be asking of the world.

Cian began to roll over onto his right side, causing Eulalie to realize that her surface was no longer stable and she needed to move. It was with the utmost reluctance that she pounced off of him onto the floor, escaping through the crack in the door to leave him be until he was ready to feed her. He flopped his arm over the side of the bed and groaned. He really didn't want to wake up at six in the morning, but he didn't have any other good options. It was a Thursday, and he would need to take a shower, get dressed, prepare a lunch for school so he could avoid the hazardous waste and dog food the faculty attempted to pass off as cuisine, eat something for breakfast, feed the cat, take the garbage can in and walk to school. The mere act of reciting the list was exhausting, and it'd take a lot more time to actually do it, so he really needed to get up.

As groggy as he was, Cian forced himself to roll out of bed and complete the morning routine. He pulled out the light yellow sweater, striped maroon tie, collared shirt and slate gray pants that comprised the uniform, got dressed and ate breakfast. His idea of a 'proper' breakfast was more of a snack than a meal, but it was close enough to sustain him for the rest of the morning. Without pausing for a second, he grabbed his keys, flung his bag over his shoulder, locked the door and left.

The trudge that it took to arrive at school was a nuisance. There was little for him to do but walk and observe, neither of which he found calming when it was so damp outside. There were many benefits to the weather on Vancouver Island. The winter was mainly mild, and the temperature rarely dipped under 0 degrees Celsius. He was just annoyed because the past two weeks had been a nearly perpetual display of Seattle's weather and he could do for a forecast that didn't involve rain.

When he didn't have any distractions, even the cars driving by the side of the road could irritate him. It was kicking up the water at the side of the curb, and if he wasn't cautious, he'd be soaked. In his best attempt to distract himself from these minor annoyances, he tried watching the others who were walking instead. While it did give him something to view, This failed to help much.

The boys were speeding along on bikes and skateboards doing nothing worthwhile whatsoever, while the girls travelled in clumps, chattering away about celebrities, television, and how much they hated the other group of girls on the opposite side of the street because they were sluts. Cian wanted to envy them for at least being capable to have human contact, but he really didn't. He resented them for having the opportunity to be so blissfully ignorant and somehow get by, but he also didn't want to be a complete moron, and that appeared to be a direct result. He looked past them, towards the sidewalk, and continued on his way in silence.

Every morning, he took the same turn after entering campus, swerving towards the primary academic building for the high school students. He took his books for the first three classes from his locker and headed down the hallway towards his homeroom.

The hallway was loud, filled with meaningless chatter. Trace words were loud enough to be heard over the dull roar, along with a whisper that he wished he hadn't heard. Multiple students had interjected an "aargh" as he passed by, again. Cian had learned not to turn and look to see who had said it. The first time he had shown up to school with the bandage over his eye, it was cruel yet clever, but he'd been in elementary school at the time, and in a different school, for that matter. Now it was just annoying.

When he arrived in homeroom, the class was entirely still. The authority figure, sitting behind her desk with ever watchful eyes, was enough to intimidate the kids into silence while they waited for the morning announcement. It was for this reason that a crowd was amassing outside, delaying their entry into the room just enough to not be late without needing to sit in the deafeningly still classroom. Most of the students found it gloomy and restricting; Cian was pretty sure this was peaceful. Then again, the majority of the students in this school also seemed to find a sense of enjoyment in talking, so the difference in opinion made sense.

He kept his eye on the clock while he waited, counting away each remaining tick until the minute-hand finally reached the twelve at the top. Sure enough, the room was filled with the sound of the morning bell, and students poured in through the doors to sit down. None of it caught his attention. As far as he was concerned, this was nothing more than the start of another numbingly tedious day.

The morning announcements hadn't changed, so he started to take advantage of the opportunity to stop paying attention by slipping into a trance. This did not get to last for long. He was disrupted by the sensation of something prodding at his side. Instantly jolted out of his daze, he twisted his head sideways to get a glimpse of where that had come from.

The student who was sitting behind him was searching for his attention. Now that they had it, they leaned inwards and started speaking into his ear. He didn't have the opportunity to back away in time to avoid being spoken to. Usually people who would bother to search for his attention intended to mock him. For some reason, that wasn't what happened today.

"Hey, Cian, you're supposed to be smart. Did you understand the reading last night for Michaelis' class? Because all I got out of it was that the pilgrims were society's rejects and some boats sank, and I know there's way more to it than that since the questions made no sense at all," they babbled.

It was plainly apparent that they expected an answer, and they weren't teasing him. That made it all the more confusing. Cian understood the homework they had been assigned in history class last night, but the reading that she had referenced hadn't been assigned by a teacher with that name. He hadn't even heard of a teacher at this school with that name before. The only possible explanation he could come up with was that they must not have had the same instructor.

"Do you take remedial history?" he asked.

Seemingly reflecting the same reaction that he had, the girl stared blankly towards him for a few seconds and gradually tilted her head to the side. "No, we're in the same class," she said.

"History is taught by Mrs. Gordon," Cian corrected, unsure of why she would think anything else.

The girl shook her head, causing both of her braids to shake along with her. "No, no, no. Mrs. Gordon retired this year," she insisted fervently with misplaced determination. That was a lie. He knew it was.

"She was going to retire next year," he stated back as calmly as possible.

Annoyed, the girl turned her face away from him in a huff. "Uh, no. And if you don't want to help you can just say so or something. Jerk," she said, offended.

If it hadn't been certain that she wasn't attempting to screw with his head before, it was now. Cian wouldn't have agreed to give her assistance with her homework either way, so it wasn't much of a loss that the conversation ended so abruptly, but it left him very perplexed with what had just happened. If she hadn't been joking, she had to be delusional, but of all the things to become delusional about, why was it the history teacher?

Puzzling of as that thought was, he didn't have the time to concentrate on it. Classes were starting, and he needed to focus on taking notes so he didn't miss the lessons. He wasn't entirely in the mood to pay attention to the lessons themselves, but long as he copied down the notes verbatim, he could review them later in the day and get the general idea of what he'd missed when he bothered to read them over. For now, the words he was jotting into his notebook might as well be a mass of letters with no pattern to them. He was content with that.

First period ended, and passed into second. Basic counting skills then stated that second period would turn into third. All classes that didn't have special requirements, such as laboratories, easels or computers, were grouped together in the same wing, so it didn't take long to walk between them. He followed along with the flow of traffic created by other students heading in the same direction and crossed the hallway to enter his history class.

The room on its own appeared as normal as any classroom did. There were textbooks stacked across the back counters, three rusted file cabinets blocked off the window in the back left corner, and a flag by the door. Most of the seats were already filled with students who had less of a distance to walk, but because this particular class had assigned seating, it didn't matter. It was courtesy among the teachers that Cian was always placed in the row furthest to the right closest to the front of the classroom. That way, he wouldn't have trouble seeing the blackboard.

Once he was at his seat, he removed his homework from the front pocket in his notebook, set it at the top corner of his desk, and flipped to the next clean page for notes. He looked up to check the board to ascertain that there were no notes had to be copied down before the teacher began to speak. It was a thought that was soon interrupted with the appearance of a face that he knew didn't belong here.

The man sitting behind a much less cluttered rendition of the desk that was supposed to be there appeared refined, intelligent and entirely out of his element. There was a distinct air of confidence about him that seemed better suited to an ivy-league professor than someone working at a high school. His eyes were so deeply brown that they were more easily identified with a deep mahogany. Cian wanted to deem them as red, but it had to be a trick of the light. Eyes that shade of red, the same color of congealing blood, shouldn't have been humanly possible.

The unexpected sight brought Cian to an unwilling still, his breath catching halfway up his throat. He had intended to continue through his routine and jot down the notes from the board, but this was so distinctly wrong that he was stunned by it. Why was there such a strange man sitting at the front of the classroom? Furthermore, why did it seem as if nobody else in the room was bothering to give it a second thought?

Cian attempted to tell himself that this man could be a substitute teacher. The fact that Mrs. Gordon wasn't there didn't necessarily mean that she had quit, or hadn't been there the entire year. This idea lasted with him for about a second before Cian reached the conclusion that he knew all of the substitutes. They had two of them hired who always came, and both of the substitutes were younger women. That face in the front of the classroom clearly didn't belong to a woman. If he had been around this man for the entire year, he would have remembered him. Even if he had no personality, there was an indistinguishable yet haunting sense of familiarity that encircled him, as if Cian's instincts were trying to tell him that he either knew this man or had something to fear from him.

Sebastian looked out across the room of students. His gaze lingered when he noticed that the boy was still scrutinizing his appearance. The moment that Cian knew he'd been spotted, he could feel his stomach start sinking towards his feet. Not only had he been noticed, this man was looking right at him, and if his taunting smile was of any indication, right through him. The emotions conveyed in a curl of the lips so deceptively pleasant shouldn't have been intended to be decoded, but another inexplicable instinct brought Cian to the impression that it meant he was being laughed at.

Cian was missing something of major importance, information that every other student in this room had been tricked into possessing, but he hadn't the slightest idea what or why.

As if to create another reminder of this, the man stood up from his seat. An extendable pointer reached across the blackboard, tapping beside the underlined decade that was supposed to serve as the header to their notes today. It was a normal enough gesture on its own, a reminder, and subtle enough of one not to call him out in front of the class. Thing was, that gesture had an encoded meaning of a separate sort, and everyone else present knew it but Cian.

The students rose up from their seats. "Good morning, Mister Michaelis," they greeted as a collective in as much unison as could be expected from this bunch, which was none. They were showing him respect, which meant without a doubt that he couldn't be a substitute, and it also meant that he couldn't be new, or they would be hazing him, no matter how much professionalism his demeanor seemed to call for. Even further confused, Cian remained in his seat and observed while the rest of the kids lowered themselves back down to sit once more.

"We will begin today's lesson with page sixty seven. Pass your papers forwards, then to the right," Sebastian instructed. A few of the students appeared queasy when they realized they had forgotten to do the assignment or to bring it with them. Cian back down towards his own paper. The page numbers matched, but the header on his worksheet had been written up with the name 'Mrs. Gordon' on it. Something about this situation was extremely wrong. The very premise of it was confusing him, because the transition was too sudden. That was to be expected, given the circumstances.

Very few options had been available for Sebastian to form a reasonable connection with. Simply observing Cian from the shadows and approaching him with the contract wouldn't do, and he couldn't pose as family when he already had it. To fulfill the role of a teacher was the closest that he could be. If the school had been hiring, this would have been simple and within the boundaries of human capability. Instead, this was where it got fun.

Bending the minds of humans and influencing their will to shift reality wasn't nearly as much of a challenge as it sounded that it should be. The subject matter was minor, and most of them didn't pay enough attention to the people around them to notice such a minuscule change in their memories. The only minds he couldn't touch were the ones protected by the influence of a demon, including himself. If it served no other purpose, this was certainly an effective way to get the boy's attention. It also gave Sebastian the opportunity to watch Cian struggle a little bit while he tried to grasp what was happening, which was still just as fun now as it had been back then.

Sebastian collapsed the pointer down and set the small metal pole beside the chalk. He approached Cian's desk, claiming from it the fifteen papers that the class had sent his way. It was a veiled way of examining the boy over, trying to read his body language to decipher his reaction.

"The reading you completed was a brief overview. Over the next two days in class, we will be examining the original settlements within colonial North America, today's focus upon the United States. Do any of you remember the incentives for potential settlers to come to the US?" For the sake of his cover, Sebastian had to address the crowd as a whole.

A few of the girls raised their hands into the air, as if they had an answer. Cian was staring vacantly down into the grain of his desk. It was tempting to call on him, but there were other students paying even less attention, who probably didn't know the answer. "Murphy," he remembered the name off of the seating chart, and directed the question to the girl in the far right corner.

Doe eyed and dumbfounded, she stared at him as if he'd just asked her to perform brain surgery. Eventually, she stuttered out an answer, which he soon pointed out as being completely and utterly wrong.

Aside from notes, this was a lost lesson for Cian. His brain had a limited capacity, and there was no room to spare when he was so preoccupied with the mystery standing a few meters away. How in the world was this possible? Could he have dreamt yesterday up, and honestly been so distracted that he reverted to remembering an old teacher? No, that couldn't be the case. The student from before was probably a loony, attempting to screw with his head. This could be a substitute introduced on a day he was absent, or, he had no explanation. He just knew it wasn't right.

It had to have been an hour later, but it had felt like minutes. A bell intercepted his repeating thoughts, and the sound of that voice which shouldn't have been present spoke over the top of the intercom's ringing.

"For the next class, write a short essay. The topic should be the Jamestown colony's original common-store system and what lessons are to be taken from its failure. Please include particular emphasis in how this could be used as an explanation for opposition towards socialist policies, and read through pages thirty four to thirty seven, ending after the section on Acadia." Sebastian instructed. Cian set the question and assigned reading in his notebook. It was the first time in an hour he'd had enough of a grasp over a full phrase to have a response for it.

Homework was titled as such because it could wait for when he had left school. His primary concern was this puzzle and his impending potential insanity. There had to be a relation he was missing, something that would disprove it. As much as he hated associating with any of the other students unnecessarily, confirming that he was right and someone was messing with his head would be worth the effort.

Cian left the classroom as swiftly as possible, not sparing a single glance back towards the door he was leaving behind. He followed the line of students who were also in the process of leaving, and reached for the shoulder of the girl who was behind him. The sudden contact made her jolt, to which he uttered a somewhat apologetic, but for the most part rushed "excuse me." This seemed to make her calm down enough that she wasn't going to spill her books all over the floor, so he asked his question. "This may be a peculiar question, but that man back in the classroom, is he our normal teacher?"

She maintained a straight face, though slightly pained, as if she wanted to escape from the conversation as soon as possible. She nodded her head to confirm what he'd stated, not so much hesitant as she was shy. "Uhm, uh-huh," she said, and began to slowly walk towards her next class.

Before she had the opportunity to leave, Cian rushed to follow after her. He couldn't shake the skepticism when he knew that he wasn't insane. "Are you absolutely certain?" he asked over again.

She nodded 'yes' and turned around a corner to enter the staircase. He followed after her, skipping every second one in order to match her pace. He was waiting for some sort of a nervous twitch or a signal to indicate that she was lying. "For how long has he been here?" he asked again.

Halfway up the stairs, she started to stumble. Listening, walking and preparing to speak might have been too much for her. She managed to avoid falling by grabbing the railing for support. In doing so, she had come to a standstill, and thus no longer had an excuse how to avoid him. She looked in his direction and attempted to smile graciously, but instead, she just looked like she was about to be sick. "He's been working here since September," she said.

The answer matched up with the last person, not word for word, but in generalizations and the facts. That he received the same story from two separate people raised the likelihood that they may have both been telling the truth. This time, Cian was the one left unable to move forward, stuck inside his thoughts. He wasn't willing to accept the idea that he could make such a major oversight.

The girl motioned towards the door at the top of the staircase, hoping to get a response from him. It was entirely ineffective. She tried to ask if he needed to be brought to the nurse, and he waved her ahead, dismissing her. There was no further use for her, and skipping his next class wouldn't have been of assistance. He was already at the school, so he may as well try to distract himself.

When he arrived in English class, Cian walked past his usual seat by the door to sit in the back corner of the room instead. He opened his textbook to the proper page and gazed blankly at the pages. No matter how much he wanted to shake this problem, he couldn't remove the pestering thought from his head. There were forms of trauma, of selective memory loss that could take out years or decades, but it was entirely implausible for him to forget one person. How in the world was this possible?

It was to his benefit that he'd chosen to sit in the back during English. If he had been in the teachers' view, he certainly would have been sent down to rest in the nurse's office. His face had flushed, and his stomach wanted to reject what remained of his breakfast from the stress he was placing upon himself while trying to determine what had just happened.

The next class passed in much the same way, with an additional, definitive conclusion that the problem must have lied within the person he'd chosen to consult. Her personality had created a restraint. If there was something wrong, she would have been afraid to mention it for fear of coming across as delusional. If he posed the questions to precisely the opposite type of person from her, then they wouldn't have the same concerns, and they would give him an honest answer. He could spot the type he needed, and conveniently enough, he was sitting right beside him.

Most of the kids in school were studious and paid attention, but the head of the jocks, Aaron, was renowned for speaking his mind and slacking off. In the middle of the classroom was typically the wrong place to talk, but Aaron had so many friends and admirers that this would be the sole opportunity to get information out of him all day. The teachers in this school were sensitive enough to sound in their classrooms that they jolted when a student so much as dropped a pen on the floor. Their eyesight, thankfully, had not learned to extend to the back of their heads yet, so writing was still just as effective.

Cian flipped to a clean page in his notebook. He wrote down a quick hello, along with the statement that he wanted to ask a question. He set the page upright, nudged at Aaron's foot, and waited for him to look in that direction. It took a few nudges to elicit the desired response, but with persistence, it did catch his attention. Aaron hadn't been paying any mind to the lesson, as was apparent from the wet spot upon the textbook that one would hope had been set there because he was drooling for some reason. It wasn't pertinent, so Cian wouldn't ask.

Once he had finished reading the page, Aaron nodded his head, stating that it was okay to ask. Cian then wrote the exact same questions as he had asked that girl, word for word, on separate lines within the notebook with free space between each one for an answer slot. He tore the page out of his notebook and passed it over.

When Aaron started to read over the page, he appeared to be abnormally happy. The further down he looked, the more his grin began to spread into a wide smirk. He scrawled a few words across the page, tossed it back over, laughed once, and leaned backwards in his chair with his feet against the desk.

In retrospect, Cian felt that he really should have predicted this type wasn't going to be helpful. He wasn't exactly favored in the eyes of the popular students within the school, and the questions themselves were so peculiar that they might have deserved to be replied to with the 'are you serious? dumbass' that had been written almost illegibly across the page.

Ridicule in itself was an irritation, but the implication of the message he had received was worse. Aaron was not exactly the most observant of people in the history of the world, and his ability to concentrate equaled to that of a squirrel's. If he was confident enough in this to start laughing at someone else about this, it was a bad sign.

In an attempt to redeem himself, Cian wrote out the response of 'of course I'm joking', which was an outright lie, and was met with the approval of the ever sought after hand tapping against the side of the desk in applause, effectively rubbing a few extra grains of salt into the open wound that was his inability to understand what was happening.

When Cian set his notebook back on the surface of his desk, he was filled with the distinct sense of dread. If this was true, he had gone insane. It couldn't be true. His head swayed towards the wall, placed a hand against his forehead, and took in a deep breath to try and suppress his growing nausea. This looked bad, but he trusted more in the sanctity of his own mind than in the perception of others.

He wasn't insane, so they had to be mistaken or lying; every last one of them. But how was that even possible? And, perhaps of even greater importance, who the hell was Mr. Michaelis?


	3. Encounter

Chapter III: Encounter

Classes had been brought to a momentary pause by the arrival of lunch hour. The majority of the students had scattered into packs around the center of the cafeteria, chattering amongst one another about mundane gossip and whatever else happened to hold their attention at the time. He tried his best to ignore it.

None of the other students would think it abnormal that Cian was sitting in a booth at the back corner of the room, completely alone. It was typical behavior for him to avoid everyone else. It just so happened that today there was a greater motivation behind this avoidance than not wanting to be bothered with listening to them.

Cian had already come to terms with the idea that, no matter the answer he created, it was going to sound more like a science-fiction novel than reality. Nothing about this situation came even close to being reasonable by normal standards. As of twenty seven hours ago, the identity of 'Mister Michaelis' didn't exist, and as of three hours ago, he did. It was a change that transcended any sensible explanations, but even that which had no basis in reality had to have a trigger. Something must have caused this- he just had to find out what.

In pursuit of this missing piece of information, Cian had foregone eating lunch and spent the time brainstorming. His notebook was covered in an array of nigh-illegible notations, scrawled sloppily across the open pages. His hand hovered over the top of the chart, the tip of his mechanical pencil hovering just above the page. He leaned onto his right elbow, ruffled through his bangs and stared at the two interlocking, scattered spider maps. He couldn't think of anything else to add, so he decided to look over what he'd written and see if he could find anything useful in the mess of ideas.

The major idea bubbles were divided in two, one labeled as 'external' and the other as 'internal'. The internal bubble branched off into the potential explanations that he was the source of; trauma, delusion, a dream, a hallucination, a tumor, a malfunction of the hippocampus, a mental disorder, and death. The second bubble of external causes was located further down the page. Unlike the first section, he had no basis for what could be possible and what wouldn't be, so he'd listed whatever came to mind without discretion and worked off of it. The end result gave him such varied ideas as the erasure slash replacement of Mrs. Gordon's previous existence, the arrival of aliens performing experiments upon humans, mass hypnosis, the matrix being real, and passing through a dimensional rift into an alternate universe. The last option, which he had finally resigned into attaching, also stated the cause was directly supernatural; from vampires, to mutants, and finally, angels, fallen or otherwise. In between the intersections of the two thought maps, he had written in bolded print letters the single question 'why am I immune?'

His options appeared to be much clearer on paper, but that failed to make them any easier to accept or understand. Without logic to assist him, he had no way of discerning which of this answers was correct, if any of them were. All he had were a bunch of scrambled thoughts and the remains of a meal he really didn't feel like eating.

A bell sounded directly above his head. He jolted in his seat, releasing his pencil onto the page. It rolled across the surface. He closed it inside of the notebook with a frustrated slam. Thankfully for the sake of not attracting attention, paper notebooks didn't make very much noise when shut, no matter how forcefully the action was taken. He sealed the cap back on his bottle of water and promptly shuffled himself off towards his next class.

Thankfully, there weren't any quizzes or tests during the rest of the day, and the written homework was so basic that he was able to finish it with minimal effort during his other classes. Soon enough, the day was almost over, and he wasn't any closer to solving the puzzle. There was only one class period left –study hall- and as he sat staring towards the wall at the front of the room, he knew exactly what he needed to do with it. There was someone else he needed to see, and he wasn't going to find them by sitting around and staring blankly into space.

Cian stood up from his seat. He felt someone kick him while he walked by. He didn't bother to look back and find out who had done it. It wouldn't have done him any good to know, so it wasn't worth the bother.

The homeroom teacher sat at her desk, reviewing a set of worksheets that one of her other classes had completed today. Cian tapped his hand lightly against the side of the desk to get her attention. Her head snapped up instantly. She looked him over, examining him from head to shoes to see if there was a particular, outstanding problem. "Is there anything you need? Restroom?"

"No. May I have a pass to Mr. Holender's room? He requested I go down there to work on my art project if I had the time, and I already finished my homework, so I do," he lied flawlessly.

She gave him a disbelieving look about already being finished. Students weren't allowed to leave their homerooms during study hall if they hadn't completed their work, and she didn't believe he could have finished everything in ten minutes' time, but proving him wrong wasn't worth the effort, so she wrote him the pass anyway and held it out in his direction. "Go ahead, I guess it's ok," she conceded unenthusiastically.

"Thank you, ma'am." He took the pass from her, nodded his head respectfully, and headed out the door. It didn't matter if she liked it or not so long as he had permission, so he didn't need to care.

Cian hadn't lied about where he was going. He really did intend to go to the art room. Out of all the teachers in the school, the most open-minded of them was by far the art teacher, Mr. Holender. He was one of those people that the word 'eccentric' was coined specifically to describe. He tended to place more attention on what he liked than what his job actually entailed, so he never failed to speak his mind. His largest flaw might be the sanctity of his sanity, but seeing as that was the same flaw others might notice in Cian at the moment, that was more of a benefit than a problem. It was best to seek out someone who was _em_pathetic to the scenario instead of being _sym_pathetic, because he knew with little doubt that his questions would never leave this room.

When he reached the end of the empty hallway, Cian focused an eye on the distorted glass panel at the top half of the door and peeked inside. If there was a single soul inside other than Holender's, he planned to duck into the restroom and hide there until the bell rang. It was of the utmost importance he not attempt this while other people were around to see it happen. To his relief, this wasn't going to be a problem. The art room was just as vacant as he'd expected it to be.

At the very edge of his field of vision, he could spot the top of Mr. Holender's head towering over an easel. The mess of frizzy, sand-blond curls pinned to the back of his head was distinctive enough alone to identify him by. A cart of supplies was set to his side. He was probably working on an example for one of the lessons later in the year.

There didn't appear to be any further reason to stand out in the hallway, so Cian raised a hand to the locked door and gently knocked on the surface. Mr. Hollender raised his head above his easel and peeked over the ledge of it towards the door. He shoved his paintbrush into his smock, rose up from his chair and started to head over. For some undisclosed reason, he started to turn around, paced a few steps backwards, and turned around again before he arrived at the door to open it.

In the time it had taken Holender to get there, the paintbrush in his pocket had smeared streaks of green paint all across his smock. Cian waved his hand towards the spill to try and signal that the teacher should look. Holender didn't appear to notice. He snatched the piece of paper from Cian's hand, didn't bother to check it over for the signature and tossed it straight into the recycling bin.

"Well, we won't be needing that," Mr. Holender muttered, speaking in such a tone that Cian would have been inclined to think he meant to talk to himself if he wasn't looking straight towards Cian while he said it. He stood inside the frame of the doorway for a few moments, waiting patiently for a response. It wasn't until a few seconds later that the teacher developed the sense to realize that Cian wasn't entering the room because he was blocking the doorway. A lopsided grin took over his expression as he moved out of the way. "You can come in. Should come in, actually," he masked his embarrassment with a nervous chuckle and waved a hand along, beckoning Cian inside.

Cian followed, entering the cluttered room. Easels were arranged into a circle, and upon closer inspection, a table was set into the middle, covered with a sheet, a bottle set on top of it. Whatever his last class was, they must have been working on a still life.

"Someone ate the apple last night, so I need to get a new one from the store tomorrow. It's such an inconvenience, and I sure hope they were hungry or it's a waste, too, eh?" " he said, somehow sounding as if he was both amused and aggravated by this.

The not-so-reassuring reply of silence urged him to flick his wrist and swat the topic out of his mind. "Well, stop standing around like I'll make you leave. You should be comfortable, sit down!" The moment that he extended this offer, Mr. Holender noticed something he'd previously overlooked. Most of the chairs that were supposed to be in the room had already been put away for the evening. He grinned nervously as the realization set in.

"Ah, uhm, excuse me for a moment. I'll go get them." He rushed off to retrieve them.

A few seconds of particularly loud rummaging later, he emerged from the other side with two wooden, paint-stained chairs in tow. He set them on the floor, beside where Cian was waiting, and wasted no time in taking. He kicked a foot up across his opposite knee and slouching slouched forward, causing another streak of paint to smear across his upper torso. Cian just stared.

"No, really, you should sit down. It's not like these are going to break," Mr. Holender urged again. This time, Cian listened and took a seat as well. He leaned forward as well looked to his left, still observing the actions of the person beside him.

Now that he was here, Cian didn't have the slightest idea how to raise the topic on his mind. A palpable silence fell over them. It lasted for what felt like nearly a minute before Mr. Holender lost the patience to sit through it. He sighed with a mixture of impatience and concern. "Cutting right to the chase, why'd you lie to get down here? I might be older than you, but my memory's still good. You finished your portrait was finished Monday and you're not allowed to start working with the pastels yet, so what's the deal?"

There wasn't any use in delaying longer than he already had. Sitting around here wouldn't accomplish anything, so he had to say something.

"This may sound odd," Cian tried to start off, and lost sight of where he meant to go with this instantly. He'd been rejected for this thought three times already. Saying it again was likely to have the same effectiveness as ramming his head against a brick wall. Why was he bothering?

"Odd is what I do best. Don't worry, just go on." Oh, yeah, because this guy was a lunatic who might actually listen. That was why.

"It transcends that type of odd," Cian tried to stall again. An approving nod and a quick wave of the hand attempted to beckon him back into speaking. He needed to spend a few more moments gathering his thoughts, but was ultimately a successful encouragement in getting him to spit it out. "It's about Mister Michaelis. Can you recall how long he's worked here? Any nuances, peculiar behaviors, miscellaneous information that would seemingly be insignificant?" he asked, speaking so quickly that it was almost difficult to understand what he had tried to say.

Mr. Holender's brow wrinkled in curiosity, a flicker of excitement and recognition flashing across his eyes. He stretched his hands out in front of him and cracked his knuckles as casually as was possible for such a motion.

"Now, now, you're leaving the good part out. You really should remember. He's been here from the start of the year. He's not that weird for this school since most of the teachers are stiffs with no sense of humor. No mannerisms, no apparent hobbies, and he doesn't seem to eat much, if that counts for anything. But… I've got the feeling I'm not going to tell you quite what you want to know unless you're more specific than this. Is there any reason that you're interested?"

"Not particularly, no. It isn't pertinent any longer." Cian had learned everything he could from the answer he'd already been given, and that was plenty enough for now. If it was possible, he should probably leave, and the swifter he could manage it the better.

To his dissatisfaction, Mr. Holender wasn't quite that willing to let it go. He grinned and tried to reach out to pat Cian on the shoulder. He swayed backwards so the teacher couldn't reach. He didn't appear to notice.

"C'mon, you should indulge an old man's whims and at least explain why. You don't come in to chat for no reason, never have," Mr. Holender remarked. Cian attempted to avoid the subject by looking in the opposite direction, and Holender counteracted this by swaying that way on his chair and starting to laugh to himself at the reason he'd come up with. "What are you, trying to figure out how old he is or something?"

"I've had my reasons, and they were satisfied. That's all you need know." Cian maintained a perfectly straight face as he spoke back, trying to shut the idea down. It didn't work.

"What? Did you want to figure out how to bribe him? Cause him trouble?" Mr. Holender asked, trying to coerce another answer out of him. Cian didn't respond, not even in his expression, which lead Mr. Holender to the conclusion that the reason had to connect to another subject. "Hey, I didn't mean to be insulting. It's ok to be unobservant sometimes. We aren't super-computers, eh, and I do shit like that on accident all the time. Pass by the same ice cream parlor a hundred times on my way home from work only to realize it was a barber shop. It's normal."

"That's pathetic," Cian commented back dryly, having absolutely no reservations about the fact that he'd just insulted a teacher. According to Mr. Holender's standards, maybe this was a 'normal' occurrence, but it wasn't to him.

From what he could discern, there was no longer anything to be gained from this conversation. Cian gathered his belongings and set his bag onto his shoulder. On cue and on time, the PA system sent the chime of the bell throughout the entire school. He rose up from his seat and started walking towards the door, his back turned towards the rest of the room to create a sense of distance between him and where he didn't want to be.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he stated quietly as he headed towards the door.

As Cian started to leave, Mr. Holender reached out a hand towards the door and stood up on reflex, looking oddly frantic for some reason. "If you want to stay after next Monday, I'll be bringing in clay for the advanced class. There's probably gonna be some left over, and there'll be enough left that if you want to try their project for extra credit, you can!" he shouted.

Cian peeked over his shoulder in time to get a glance at him, and paused in the doorway when he heard him speak. Free access to the school's supplies and the opportunity to do something more exciting was really appealing, especially when it was such a good opportunity to not go home in the afternoon. "I'll mull it over," he agreed, not wanting to say an immediate yes so he didn't look too eager.

He was halfway through the door when he pointed across the room, motioning towards the teacher's chest. "And by the way, you've shaded yourself in improperly. There's an excess of green in your shadows, and it's smudged across your torso," he commented dryly.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just a smock; it's made to put up with this."

The door shut behind Cian with the highly audible click of the wood slamming against the deformed frame. Without sparing a moment to think, he shifted the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder, turned away from the art room and walked through the hallways towards a back exit through the school gardens. He wasn't in the mood to run into the crowd of fellow students also trying to leave. Today was bad enough without setting himself up to be tormented on his way home.

The brush towards the back was slightly overgrown and for the most part untouched, since nobody really lived in that direction. He was going out of his way by doing this, but it was generally worth it. He absent mindedly trudged along across the marked cement pathway, suppressing a sigh that was desperate to escape. He didn't mean to let it get to him, but he was still annoyed by the confusion of the day, and it was starting to take its toll. He was so thoroughly consumed by the troubles muddling his head that until he opened his eye, he hadn't even noticed that he walked straight into a bush.

For the most part unaffected, though a bit confused, he took a cautious step backwards and prepared to walk away. He was brought to a sudden stop when he felt something nip at his ankle. It started off like a pinch between nails, and grew a little stronger. More importantly, it wasn't stopping when left alone. He bent over and twisted towards his side to see what the source of the problem was. A thin, yellow and black blob, which he identified as either being a wasp or a yellow jacket, was sitting on his ankle. He froze in place, waiting for it to fly away on its own. It didn't.

It wasn't dead, and he knew it wasn't. Touching it may have made it more frightened and inclined to attack again. No matter how unresponsive it appeared, he wasn't eager to reach down and do anything to it, but not moving it might cause the same problem. He really didn't want to, but it wasn't going to leave if he didn't make it, so he set his finger against his thumb and flicked it off.

The second he knew it was no longer on him he stepped back onto the designated path and briskly started to walk away. He was going home. And once he got there, if he had his way, he was not coming back out of it for quite some while.

As he rushed towards his house, Cian was a bit surprised. He'd always been under the impression that stings were supposed to hurt more than that. He noted that his right ankle did twitch and pinch each time he attempted to flex it, but that seemed to be the extent of the damage. It didn't start off being that bad. The vote of confidence and temporary positivity was misplaced. It got worse.

After less than a minute of attempting his journey home, his ankle had begun to sear. It was painful even in the moments when he paused, but it was the worst if he tried to move forward. He clutched the strap of his bag with both hands, twisting at it to try and relieve a slight percentage of the stress this was causing. When he raised his foot, the ankle throbbed. He attempted to set it down, and the pain grew worse. He bent his knee enough that the ball of his right foot grazed the ground while his left held the majority of his weight, and it barely helped. He could breathe just fine, but he couldn't coerce himself into forcing another step.

If he really was allergic, he needed to call someone, but he didn't have a phone and no one else was in sight. Cian was too stubborn to accept assistance from most sources, but he was good enough at cooperating with the faculty that he would have at least gotten some medicine from them as long as he knew them.

He turned his head to look around the corner. There was someone in the distance walking his way. His hope that this might have finally been a moment of good fortune was crushed brutally when he reached the realization that they didn't fit the criteria due to one fatal flaw. He really needed to stop hoping about things, it didn't end well for him.

Sebastian had been on his way to leave for the day when he'd sensed that something had gone amiss, so he'd changed his course accordingly to come and investigate. The pitiful sight ahead of him was one he found funny. It didn't take an aptitude for observation to tell what Cian's stance implied. People didn't walk with that type of a wobble unless their leg had been injured, and from the way he was limping, the problem was his ankle. As he had suspected, it looked as if the boy needed help, so he continued to approach.

The sight of Sebastian's face was enough to make Cian's stomach sink with dread. Any other teacher would have done, so why did it have to be this one? He tried to take another step forward to escape, but he froze partway through, cringing from the pain, which allowed Sebastian to catch up with ease. Well, this was going about as poorly as possible.

There was some merit to the adage 'old habits die hard.' Sebastian had trouble restraining the urge to refer to this child as the 'young master.' The words had nearly slipped off his tongue without him thinking about it. "May I be of assistance?" he inquired.

It was an offer to help, and that was truly all that he meant by it, but that wasn't what Cian heard. His first response was to immediately step away. The second that his foot started to graze the ground, another wave of pain shot through his leg. This forced his argument to become a verbal one. "I am perfectly, alright." Cian insisted, lying. Many people in this day and age were careless about their posture, but not to the degree that they would try to walk in a similar stance to a perching flamingo, so the claim fell short.

"I would hope your posture isn't this abysmal on a regular basis." Sebastian spoke back, attempting to call him out on it.

"If it were, it's hardly your business. I'm fine," Cian insisted, rejecting the attempt. He tried to take another step, but stopped partway through. The physical pain was worse than the potential torment he might receive on the emotional level if he admitted what was wrong. As much as he disliked the idea, he didn't have much of a choice. His annoyance turned into a slight huff that accompanied the reluctant words to follow. "A wasp stung me," he admitted.

Sebastian attempted to check the site of the injury for swelling, but he didn't have the opportunity to look for long. The instant that Sebastian had started to move towards him, Cian had attempted to take another step away. In doing so, Cian had stepped onto a crack in the sidewalk, causing him to stumble. He tried to shift his foot so he could land on his instep, but he could feel the ground slip away. The expectation caused him to flinch, bracing for the crash that would inevitably follow.

Before this could happen, Sebastian sprinted forward and skidded to an almost instant stop by landing upon one knee. Sebastian set his arms out and caught Cian before he could fall. Before the boy had the chance to realize what was happening, Sebastian stood up and began to carry him away back towards the school.

The landing created enough of an impact that Cian knew to open his eye when it did. The first thing he noticed was the hand pressed against his back, steadying him. The second thing he noticed was the other hand set in the crevice beneath his knee. Both sets of fingers grasped to maintain stability, and he was raised up from the ground, being carried bridal style back in the direction of the school.

As Cian began to look in his direction, Sebastian smiled down towards him. "You are not in any condition to walk. Allow me to escort you to the infirmary," he offered in such a way that it was clear rejecting wasn't an option.

"Wait, what?" Cian muttered back, unsure of what had just happened, or more pertinently, _how _it had just happened. It was uncomfortable enough that someone was invading his personal space without permission, but how had this guy managed to move that far in such a short amount of time to catch him?

Then, the rest of the problem settled in, and his composure left entirely, replaced by a livid growl of a stare. "Set me down this instant!" he demanded, attempting to force his own way down by trying to shove Sebastian away from him.

There wasn't too high of a probability that Sebastian would actually drop him, but Cian wasn't making it easy. Scrawny as he was, he still had enough strength to be troublesome. Sebastian didn't appreciate the behavior. It made him exasperated enough to sigh in disapproval while he walked onwards, seemingly unhindered. "It would be best if you not walk on that foot. It would increase the intensity of the pain," he reasoned. He didn't intend to listen to what the boy told him, because frankly, his opinion was stupid.

"I'm fully capable of walking. Set me down," Cian tried to demand.

"Your previous behavior indicated otherwise. There is little that can be done to tend to such wounds, but I can set it under ice, and in the instance of an anaphylactic shock, it is best to be within reach of the proper medication. It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to attempt to return home alone within this condition," Sebastian insisted. Due to the timing of his arrival, Sebastian had reason to suspect that if such a reaction was going to occur, it already would have. He selectively omitted that piece of information in with the intention of getting his way, and it worked. Begrudging, but cooperative for the time being, Cian shut up.

By the time they were approaching the school, the premises were empty. It was a very slim silver lining, but one that Cian was thankful for. This situation was embarrassing enough without word of it leaking to the student body. Something about the idea of being carried inside by a teacher because he got stung by a bee sounded like it was asking to be mocked.

Sebastian came to a halt in front of the nurse's office. He attempted to nudge the bottom of the door open with his foot, to no avail. It had been locked for the evening. That wasn't a condition he would accept.

He cautiously slipped his left hand forward, balancing the back of Cian's legs on his upper arm to free his grip. As soon as it was within reach, Sebastian grabbed onto the handle and twisted it towards him, opening the door.

Upon entering the room, the first thing Sebastian did was approach a cot and gently Cian down. The fabric's material was reminiscent of pleather, and the mattress beneath the cover may as well have been made from rocks for how lumpy and unyielding it was. Thankfully, they weren't here to try and get a night's rest. The part that mattered was that his ankle could be treated, and that was fully within reason.

The décor left as much to be desired as any other nurse's office would have. The walls were a stark white, the ceiling matched, and the gray-toned furniture hadn't been replaced for at least two decades. It was about as inviting and soothing as a lion's den, and somehow, Sebastian knew his way around it as if it was his office instead of the nurse's. He opened up right side of the tallest cabinet, locating a mini-fridge. From inside of there, he took an ice pack from the freezer box and wrapped it in a towel. Cian knew how to take a cue well enough that he had pulled up his pant leg, allowing the ice to be set against his skin.

The initial discomfort nearly made him flinch, but he held the expression back as much as possible by biting on his lip. His hand crept up to the side of his face, his right palm setting against the upper edge of his cheek and the eye patch. He was getting extremely frustrated by the entire ordeal, and to make the matter worse, he was still fixated on that one stupid, perplexing problem. It was as if his mental files had been corrupted by a virus to the degree where he couldn't function properly until he knew why he didn't know who this person was.

Sebastian had found the other supplies which may have been of later use. He had retrieved an antihistamine, an Epi-pen, a disinfectant and a pain reliever, along with a cup of water. "In prevention of a worsening reaction, it may be best to take this," he attempted to offer the antihistamine.

By the time Sebastian had walked back over, Cian had purposely turned onto his side so he didn't need to look at Sebastian. "No," he refused, not trusting him.

He'd brought the medicine for Cian's benefit, so Sebastian didn't believe it to be a point worth insisting. He set the pills and the water onto a table beside the cot. "Suit yourself. Should you change your mind, it shall be in wait."

Sebastian took a seat across from Cian. He allowed a few seconds to pass, waiting to see if Cian had anything he wanted to say. He didn't.

In the absence of any input from him, Sebastian leaned forward and tried a different question, one that, as faculty, he was obligated to ask. "Would you like for me to call your parents?"

The instantaneous "no" that he had received for that one didn't surprise him much.

"Are you certain? It's a requirement that I contact them in an instance such as this, to ensure that you arrive home safely."

"It's after school hours, your requirements aren't pertinent, here. I prefer not to bother them, and you need respect that," Cian quipped.

"So I shall," Sebastian agreed. There was no use in continuing an argument which he had no way of winning, nor much of a motivation to pursue. If the boy wanted to stay here and suffer, that was fully his choice, and it created even more chances to watch him try to maintain an appearance of being capable while his sense of control was disabled. It was nearly nostalgic. "Is there anything else you might require?" Sebastian asked.

It was a struggle for Cian to keep from blurting out what was on his mind. The words crept upwards along the walls of this throat, aiming to break free and pose the question against his better judgment. It might assure him that he wasn't insane, but no answer he could possibly be given would be reasonable enough not to dismantle the very way he regarded the idea of reality as a whole. There was also the lingering possibility that he wasn't supposed to not know what the others did. There was a distinct possibility he could be making himself a direct target by doing so.

This wasn't a good idea, but understanding that wasn't enough to stop him.

The messenger bag which he had been carrying on his shoulder had flopped over, concealed by his torso from Sebastian's sight. He pretended to just be keeping quiet while he reached inside of the bag, rummaging around for something in particular. He coughed, shut the bag, and slipped the slim object partway up his sleeve just in case he might need to defend himself. A jolt ran through him, but he forced it not to show while the tension rose and broke. He needed to do this.

"Tell me what you are." Cian had fit it into the request and had reached the decision to demand it outright, yet ambiguously. If Mr. Michaelis feigned ignorance even after Cian's insistence, not batting an eye or showing any shift in his demeanor, then Cian might start to seriously doubt himself. Anything other than a mundane hesitation would confirm that there really was something worthy of his concern.

Sebastian wasn't blind. The motion was clever, and he would provide the boy some internal praise for trying to be prepared. Even he might have overlooked the action if wasn't for a glimmer of the blade's silver tip wasn't peeking through at the bottom of Cian's sleeve. Against a human, that would have been a clever ploy. However, a measly hobby tool would never do him harm regardless of who was wielding it or how unexpected it was. As much as he could appreciate the theory of the attempt, to let the boy think that would be a threat was more than a mistake; it was an insult.

Before Cian had the opportunity to move, or to so much as blink, Sebastian took hold of the item. He'd reached over the top of his hiding spot, pulled his arm upwards, and grabbed onto Cian's wrist.

The grip of Sebastian's hand pressed the metal handle into Cian's skin, creating an indent and a sense of pressure without breaking skin. Sebastian then reached a few fingers inside of the sleeve, removed the knife from Cian's grasp, and threw it into the wall at the opposite set of the room. The entire set of motions was so effortless that he might as well have used magnetism to draw the knife to him. Cian hardly had the time to look, let alone process what had occurred. The only portion of it he could see vividly enough to confirm was the face overhead.

"Whatever do you intend to gain by asking?" Sebastian asked, a smile spreading across his face. For a moment, it looked effortless. No sooner had it shown up was it replaced with the presence of a slightly mischievous, potentially malicious smirk that provided a peek into his thoughts. Beyond any sense of a doubt, he was entertained by this.

Giving an explanation this early on would have erased a rare opportunity for his entertainment. Providing no answer at all didn't feel quite right, either, so Sebastian settled in the middle by using as cryptic of a hint as he could create. "There is a reason why I cannot touch you as I can the others. Take from that what you will." Sebastian released Cian's wrist, causing his arm to fall limp along with the rest of him onto the cot.

Setting aside the incorrect way of interpreting that message, it failed to instill much in the way of faith. Cian was rendered entirely speechless when his calculations were immobilized. He could think of no master plan, and no way to reroute the scenario into one where he had the upper hand. His eyelids lowered, narrowing to disguise that he had been taken off guard. The glacial stare that the boy had adapted was a defensive mechanism, and Sebastian could see straight through it. Apparently, he had taken this a step too far.

Sebastian wasn't going to retract anything he'd said when it was all true, but he did have the decency to add another statement. "The rest shall come to light when it's needed. However, I promise you that I will not do you harm."

"You've given me no reason to believe you," Cian stated back, skeptical that Sebastian was telling the truth. Such a statement didn't mean much coming from this type of a source.

If the circumstances would have allowed for it, Cian would have stood up and left. He wanted to, and he would have, if it weren't for his ankle. His intentions and beliefs aside, he couldn't move very far, and even with the addition of the temperature, it did hurt. He couldn't go home in this condition. For that matter, he would have quite the time getting himself to move anywhere.

Sebastian was ready to point this out. "Provided the-"

"Just, don't even bother saying it. I'm well aware." Cian allowed his head to fall back against the amazingly rough surface of the pillow. He huffed, tried to stop thinking about his ankle and in his annoyance, an idea occurred to him that he probably should have had from the beginning. "There are crutches in the second cabinet from the left at the back of the room. Bring them to me." His ankle was numb enough that he didn't feel it for now, and if he kept his knee bent to avoid setting weight on it, he would be able to move. There was a small chance he might make it home.

Getting up and leaving had not been an intended option. It was, however, a direct order, and at the moment he was under the impression it would be better to listen than to not. In compliance, Sebastian retrieved them from the cabinet and brought them over to Cian.

Cian forced himself to sit at the edge of the bed, and with the assistance of the crutches, raised himself upright to stand on his good leg. His leg was functional enough that he could stand, and he took a step away from the bed with as much ease as he could have hoped for.

"In the absence of a guardian, I can take you home," Sebastian offered.

"My ankle's numb enough. I can manage." Cian took his next step while trying to prove his point.

While he was, admittedly, stable, these movements were also slow. Cian hadn't appeared to be managing all that well on his own the first time, and the ice was going to wear off before he made it back. It was acceptable if he didn't want to call anyone to pick him up, but there was no good reason to try and walk home on his own "If you would accept, it's unnecessary."

"Which, I do not," Cian's insistence was reaching the verge of becoming a hiss by the time he'd reached the doorway. In some ways it was a fierce independence, in others it was distrust, but the base of it remained stable no matter the reason. He wasn't accepting the help, and left the room with an almost remarkable haste for someone restricted to balancing on crutches and standing on one leg. Ciel had always been mature, but the impression had consistently been counteracted by his inability to function without assistance.

Well, this was new.

It was an unpleasant journey to trudge home. Cian had managed it somehow. It was a comfort to know he was where he belonged, in the place he was most familiar with, and would have access to another ice pack. He was greeted at the door by the aroma of spices, onions and sauce, and said comfort failed to thrive for long, because that shouldn't have been there.

The lamp in the entry room had been turned on, and the normal welcoming committee was conspicuously absent. It took his breath away to see it, for all the wrong reasons. Cian's eye widened and his mouth opened in another desperate try to process what could have occurred in his absence. His father couldn't possibly be home when his car hadn't been in the driveway, and who else would have been able to come inside? His aunt wasn't due to visit for weeks, and no one else had a key. If it was a thief, the house would have been ransacked, not cleaned up, and what sort of thief left the light on?

He didn't need to search far to find the cat. Eulalie had taken interest in an item set on the kitchen table, and was hovering over the top of the dish, poking her nose into the rising steam. She should have known full well that she wasn't allowed on the table, which might be exactly why she was so fascinated by it.

"Get off of the table right now, Laylie" Cian ordered. Eulalie didn't have any interest in leaving. She looked away from the dish for just long enough to stare at him, possibly wondering what his problem was, and return to what she was doing before. He walked over towards the table, limping the entire way, picked her up and dropped her back on the floor. In doing so, he was given a much better view of what she had been so fascinated by.

A single place had been set at the kitchen table. The good china had been removed from the upper cabinet that Cian could never reach, and the dinner he had been planning on trying to make had spontaneously appeared. It smelled delicious, and didn't appear to have reacted in any peculiar ways, which was typically more than he could say for his own cooking. Many poisons were colorless and odorless, so he couldn't guarantee that it had not been laced with a substance meant to harm him. Would it really be safe to consume?

This prompted his leg to remind him that he really didn't want to be standing, and that he didn't really care. The scent kept entering his nose, and it was tantalizing enough that he might start to drool on accident if he didn't at least take a test bite.

It was one of the most delicious things he'd ever tasted. It had just the right balance of flavors, and it wasn't watered down by soggy noodles the way his tended to end up. First it was his teacher, and now it was his meal. The entire basis of reality had chosen to renovate itself today.

Cian brought the plate with him to the living room and turned on the television. He didn't care much for what was playing, and he paid it no mind. What he needed wasn't entertainment; it was a distraction. The noise the TV created provided that.

He nodded off on the couch at about a quarter to eight, and failed to find any enthusiasm past then. It didn't matter that the world around him was falling apart. In that dream, the world was blank.


	4. Cataclysm

Chapter IV : Cataclysm

It was the natural progression that he skipped school the next day.

Cian was avoiding his problems by doing so, but he didn't care. Missing one day of school was something he could get away with. He forged his father's handwriting constantly in order to write checks and pay bills. His teachers hadn't seen a legitimate signature from his father in years, and if they hadn't caught on yet, why would they now?

He spent most of Friday curled up in his bed playing a video game he'd gotten for Christmas last year on his TV. It was a complete and total waste of time, but it took hardly any effort, and it kept his mind occupied with thoughts that didn't overwhelm him to the point of nausea. There were a few moments when he ended up feeling that way regardless, but he never actually got sick from it.

By the time Saturday had arrived, he'd made an improvement. He was feeling well enough that he was able to return to a more practical approach to facing reality than ignoring it outright. If it was possible to have a plan for his own protection when returning to the school, he wanted one, so he decided to do some research online. He went onto the school website, found the faculty listing, and ran a search on the spontaneously appearing history teacher's name.

When he first entered a search for "Sebastian Michaelis", Google didn't even show him the results. It assumed that he was searching for Sebasti_e_n Michaelis, a sixteenth century French Inquisitor for the Roman Catholic Church. After a few strange Wikipedia links, he backtracked to the original search and clicked on the link to display the results for his initial search as spelled. That time, the only result was related to his school's website. Even the World Wide Web had its limitations as a resource, and this, evidently, was one of them.

By Sunday, the errands that he had been neglecting were piling up too high for him to keep ignoring them. He took a trip to the mall to buy towels, mailed out the bills, retrieved his assignments off of the school website, and forced his way through them so he'd be ready for the dreaded Monday of paranoia and logic circles that was sure to follow. He finished his work around eleven and prepared to go to sleep, but, he couldn't bring himself to.

No matter what way he shifted across the bed or burrowed beneath his sheets, he couldn't relax, and it worsened when he could hear the movements outside of his door. Cian believed it was his father, which was a very good reason to avoid checking the hallway. In spite of that fact, he couldn't shake the idea that it just as easily could have been the so called "Mr. Michaelis" pacing in the hall. Such a suspicion was significantly less off track than he realized. If he'd bothered to get up out of bed and check the driveway, Cian would have noticed that his father's precious car was conspicuously absent.

After spending the entire weekend keeping his distance, Sebastian had grown tired of staying away. It was late enough that the boy should have been sleeping, so he was unlikely to create a disturbance by being here. He didn't plan on revealing himself, but he did need to check over his previous work and make sure nothing had gone awry since he last checked in Thursday afternoon.

As he wandered around the house, Sebastian noticed that some of the chores had started to pile up. He attended to them immediately- dusting the lower level of the house, mopping the kitchen floor, doing the dishes and ironing the laundry that had been left halfway finished. He finished it all with ease and time to spare. The only other task left was to prepare breakfast, and there were still a few hours that needed to pass before he could. Sebastian had a little time to spare while he was here, and he knew exactly how he wanted to spend it.

He had caught a glimpse of a tail fleeting around the corner when he first entered the home. That elegant yet adorable creature had dashed off under the couch when he'd arrived, and she hadn't bothered to leave since. He hoped to change that.

Sebastian walked across the living room, approaching the sofa. He leaned onto the floor and peered into the crevice. His gaze was met by narrowed green eyes, sharpened by suspicion and potential hostility.

"Now, my darling, it is alright. I only wish to see you," Sebastian cooed. He outstretched a hand beneath the couch in an attempt to touch her. The tone of his voice was soft enough that she started to relax, allowing Sebastian's gloved finger to graze her fur.

This moment of complacence made it seem to him that it might be acceptable to pull her out from beneath the couch to snuggle her, so that was precisely what Sebastian did. He grabbed her in both hands and pulled Eulalie out from the shadows of the couch, preparing to cradle her affectionately. The moment that she was provided the slightest leeway, she launched off of him with an angry meow and ran to the other side of the room.

Sebastian settled back onto the floor and stayed perfectly still, watching the cat in stillness. If he didn't behave in a way she saw as threatening, perhaps she'd come back to him.

About ten minutes later, Eulalie cautiously crept closer towards him and sniffed in the general direction of his hand. Sebastian started to raise that hand towards her to stroke her. The second she saw him budge, she pulled back. Her back arched, and her tail rose straight up, puffing out in an attempt to make her appear larger and more intimidating. Sebastian continued to stare, admiring how adorable it was when she was getting defensive. He could waste the entire morning away watching over her, and to some extent, he did.

An hour and a half of watching her meander around the room passed before he bothered to check the clock again. He turned back to face her with a small sigh.

"It seems I must return to work," Sebastian was disappointed not to spend more time with her, but to come all this way and not fulfill the tasks he had set for himself would have been a waste. He stood up and headed towards the kitchen.

Eulalie followed him towards the kitchen and crouched down at the entryway, prepared to pounce if he made the wrong move. Her tail swayed from side to side behind her, gliding through the air like a metronome keeping rhythm. To her contentment, Sebastian kept to himself while he cooked a quick breakfast.

Just as it had been the last time he visited, the pantry was pitifully barren. It contained nothing past the most basic ingredients and spices. The refrigerator was even worse off, containing mainly drinks and candy, and most of the drinks were alcoholic. Sebastian continued to search through it until he found a plastic container of strawberries and some eggs, both of which still seemed fresh. He could still work with this.

Originally, he had intended to also brew a cup of tea, but no matter where he searched in the cabinets, he couldn't locate a proper teapot or a strainer. Rather than try to make due with barely anything at all, he decided to dismiss the idea and resigned to pair the meal with a cup of juice instead.

He was placing the final touches upon the place setting when he heard a noise in the upstairs bedroom. . It was faint, distorted, and had to be taken as a signal for him to leave as swiftly as possible.

Sebastian passed by Eulalie. Eulalie skittishly backed away as he passed by, and then proceeded to follow him to the front door. He reached out to give her a pat on the head in parting. When his hand neared her face, she attempted to nip at his fingers. He seemed to ignore this.

"I shall see you again tomorrow, milady," he told her, then vanished from the doorway, leaving said door locked in the same fashion that he'd found it.

In the meanwhile, a fuzzy broadcast of a radio talk show had turned on and created a noise he would have preferred not to hear. Cian turned across the bed and flipped the switch of the clock off. Aggravated as he was by his accidental sleep deprivation, he knew he had to get up. Groggy, grumpy and disoriented but still conscious, he stood up from the bed and left the room.

When he opened the door to the hallway, Eulalie wasn't waiting there for him. He blinked towards the vacant patch of floor, confused. "Well, that's abnormal," he remarked under his breath

He walked down the staircase and peered around the corner, where he found her standing by one of the entrances to the kitchen. Her ears were pressed down against her face defensively. They perked up immediately when she caught sight of him nearby. Pleased as if nothing had happened, Eulalie pranced over to Cian's side and weaved herself between his legs, nuzzling him affectionately to claim him as her property.

As nice as it was to be appreciated, he found it to be increasingly difficult to walk. After a few near-stumbles, he decided to pause entirely. It was at this point when he bothered to glance over the rest of the kitchen and spot a second anomaly.

Another seemingly spontaneous manifestation of food had occurred overnight. This time, it was a plate of French toast with strawberries, dusted with confectioner's sugar and cinnamon. In attempt at conscious apathy, Cian decided that it didn't matter how it had appeared. As long as the food was here, he might as well eat it before leaving.

The first bite was so delicious that he inhaled the three pieces in four minutes flat, and continued on with the bland morning routine from there.

It was another cool and dimly-lit day, with dark clouds hovering overhead, waiting for the opportunity to start pouring down. Thankfully for the world, there was a wonderful invention known as an umbrella made to avert the major inconvenience of it. Cian grabbed one from the front closet before preparing to go.

Eulalie followed Cian to the door, all the while staring up to him with the most pitifully sad expression he had ever seen. She was practically begging him not to leave. She had no idea how much happier he would have been if he could agree to that.

Cian reached a hand out towards her and gave her one last stroke. "I'll return around five or so. Be a good girl until then, alright Laylie?" He asked. She mewed back at him pleadingly.

"I know that it's lonely, but I don't have another option. Bye. Behave yourself while I'm gone." Cian shut the door before he let the conversation continue past that. He was already becoming neurotic and possibly paranoid. He really didn't need to start holding expansive discussions with a cat.

The light drizzle was enough to discourage the majority of foot traffic. It enveloped the neighborhood in a haze of stillness, without a single meaningful noise to be heard for blocks. If it weren't for the cars whirring past a few blocks away, he wouldn't have had any assurance he hadn't entered a ghost town. Peculiarly, this didn't change when drew closer to the city. He was almost halfway there, and from what he could see, the nearest person was at least forty feet down the sidewalk, and yet it was still strangely quiet. His perception didn't account for the fact that he couldn't see his right side, and someone had decided to take advantage of it.

Before he had the chance to see them coming, a fellow student shoved Cian sideways. Cian felt himself start to fall. He tried to catch himself, but before he could, the other person grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him into the air, dangling him about a foot off the ground. There may have been more effective ways to be forced awake, but being assaulted was certainly in the top three.

Cian grabbed onto the other person's hand and tried to pull them away. He struggled enough that it was getting tricky to hold him in place, but the other student persisted for at least thirty seconds before Cian started to wheeze and cough. The other boy seemed to pick up on Cian's struggle to breathe as a signal he could be going a little too far, so he loosened his grip slightly.

"I guess I'm sorry, you weird faggot kid, but, I I forgot to do my homework this weekend, with that party and everything, so I didn't get much time, and I'm pretty sure you did. They're riding my back, and if you don't hand yours in, no one will even notice. So why don't you help me out here and give me yours?" the classmate spoke with a mockingly smug tone. It had a similar quality to gravel rubbing against sandpaper, and it was just as unpleasant as the comparison would lead one to expect.

When the threat of being choked was removed, Cian's expression dulled into an impassive, annoyed stare, not the least bit intimidated. Bullies specifically wanted to get a reaction. If he didn't respond, then eventually they got bored and went away. In theory, this was true, but it only worked if Cian was able to keep from reacting, and the kid hadn't stopped antagonizing him yet.

The bully shook him to gain his attention. When he had it, he snickered victoriously. "It's not like they have the time with your mom in a psycho ward and everything, right?"

That part succeeded; now Cian was annoyed. His eye twitched in irritation.

"Your skills of negotiation are compelling, but I'm disinclined to comply," Cian quipped back, being snarky. Generally, this tended to be the wrong way to deal with bullies- not that there was a specific right way, but still. It was more of an unspoken rule that it was best not to act haughty or speak over their heads, since many people found it offensive.

Logically enough, the bully was far from pleased. "What the heck are you tryin'' to say to me? I don't speak, whatever the heck that is, because that ain't normal." The defense that this guy settled on was tempting to mock. It was an accurate description of the general population for entirely different reasons than he would realize.

"_Isn't_ normal," Cian corrected flatly.

"I can say, whatever I want to, in whatever way I want to, and there _ain't_ nothing you can do about it," the bully yelled back, trying to assert his authority. It would have been much more intimidating if it weren't for the double negative completely changing the intended point of what the bully had just tried to say.

"Whether or not you convey it correctly is another matter entirely," Cian retorted. That one little comment was the last form of provocation the bully needed to snap into an impassioned fury. He clenched his teeth and glared with the type of expression that would make a comic book villain proud.

The other boy tried to grab Cian's bag away off of his shoulder, shaking him furiously. In doing so, the bully released part of his grip, providing Cian with some much-needed leeway to try and make a clever escape. Cian clutched his bag close to his chest and tried to kick away from the bully. He managed to get some space, but it didn't quite work the way he intended it to.

"If you're so eager to get down, then fine. We can do this your way," the bully growled. Without wasting another moment with a process as complicated as actual thought and strategy, he chucked Cian down into the grass with as much force as he could muster. He'd been aiming towards the sidewalk, but in the struggle, he'd missed.

If they were truly on their own, this had the potential to be a dangerous situation. Provoking this guy any further would practically ensure he was going to get into a fight, and most likely beaten up in the process. It was important to remember the setting. They were in the middle of a sidewalk, and as few of them as there were, there were still people passing by. There was no reason he couldn't use the setting to his advantage.

Cian set both of his hands behind him and gradually shifted his position so he was in a partial kneel. He stared up towards the bully with an expression that had started to resemble fear. The bully hovered over him, arms crossed, taking up as much space as possible for the sake of looking intimidating.

Cian crouched in place, waiting patiently for opportunity to arise. After about ten seconds of faking, he saw what he needed. The second he noticed someone else passing by, he sprung up from the ground, retreated, and yelled at the top of his lungs in completely fake fear "he's going to mug me!"

Cian didn't bother to look behind him while he sprinted to his home. It was his projection that if the other student tried to follow him, it would create enough of a scene in broad daylight that someone would call it in. Involving the police in a fight over homework might be dramatic, but it wasn't a lie when it clearly involved an attempt at robbery, and he didn't expect it to get that far.

In the process of the chaos, Cian had lost his umbrella. He was already beyond presentable and covered in mud, so he'd decided not to care about the rain. When he reached the corner of his street, Cian skidded to a stop. His pace slowed to a trudge as he approached his empty house, irritated and disheartened with another bruise to his dignity. This wasn't going to be a good week.

Eulalie didn't appear to be all that surprised to see him enter the house a soggy, dripping mess. She trotted along after him as he crossed through the hallways and headed up the stairs into the bathroom. If he was going to try and go to school, he needed to clean off, dry his hair and change into a uniform that didn't look as if he'd found it buried underground.

When he caught a glimpse of his disheveled appearance in the mirror, it struck him for a moment that this may have been a cue that it wasn't a good idea to attend school today. The moment that the idea entered his mind, he shook his head, dismissing it instantly. Even if there was theoretically someone to create an omen, they certainly wouldn't be wasting their time showing one to him. He cleaned himself up as swiftly as possible, dried his hair, and headed back out to try this over again. He waved goodbye to Eulalie, pulled up the hood of his jacket, and left.

By the time he had made it out of the house, he had already missed half of second period. There was no way he was going to arrive until they were already beginning the third. He could easily waste an extra forty minutes and arrive at school after Mr. Michaelis' class was already over. It was too good of an opportunity for him to cast aside, so he didn't.

Cian circled around the block he'd just passed by and stepped into a café along the route. He ordered a cup of tea from the front counter. He took a seat at an open table beside the window and reviewed his notes for the test in his fifth-period class.

Choosing to skip third period History put Cian right back on the path to avoiding his problems, but he didn't care. It made the rest of the day much less stressful, and he made it through his classes with no incidents of spectacular significance arising. He did cross paths with the student from that morning at one point, but with the exception of a dirty glare in his general direction, no mention of what had occurred took place. Ninth period came and went, and everything was as normal as it could be. He failed to understand just how foreboding of a statement this really was.

At the end of the school day, Cian veered through the hallways, distancing himself from the pack of his classmates to approach the art studio as planned. As he turned a corner into the next hall, he was met with a distinctive metallic clanking sound of someone pulling furniture across the room. Why it wasn't being left to the janitorial staff, he didn't know, and he didn't plan to guess. It wasn't his business to know. Without giving it another thought, Cian reached up to the window and knocked.

He stared up at the door, wondering if the knock was loud enough to be noticed over the sound of clanking. There wasn't a response. He tried to turn the knob, which was locked. When that failed, he knocked on the wood of the door, pounding much louder on it than he had before. It must have stood out from the rest of the shifting and scraping, because this time it received a reply.

"Sorry! Just a sec, I've almost got this done and I'll be right there!" the teacher exclaimed at enough of a shout that it travelled through the door with minimal distortion.

Cian had no alternative choices but to stand and wait around for Mr. Holender to make it to the door. He tapped his foot impatiently, counting out the seconds that it took. His count reached seventy four by the time that the door opened, and the man appeared to be even more of a wreck than was customary for him. The clusters of curls on his head were poking out at such odd angles that it appeared to be a hybrid between an afro and a palm tree. A lab coat had taken the place of last week's smock, and he was panting for air as if he'd just sprinted multiple laps around the room.

Mr. Holender fell back against the door that he was supposed to be keeping open, falling as limp as he was able to while avoiding the unfortunate end of collapsing entirely. He raised one arm and swatted at the air, intending the movement to be taken as a dismissal of concerns. Doing this so randomly caused it to look more like there was a fly around and he wanted to kill it. "Don't mind it. The wood grain's fascinating today. Just, come on in. You're welcome, always welcome," he said with a slur, a hesitant laugh, and a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I'll follow you once you're there. Sorry, I'm just sorta off today."

Not wanting to spend more time than was possible in the view of other students, Cian nodded in agreement. He walked past Holender and approached the center table.

Most of the work stations surrounding the circle were equipped with easels, but two had been switched around to have desks. A plastic white pail was set directly between them, which presumably contained one of the supplies they needed. The old floorboards squeaked under the weight of an adult moving across them, proving that Mr. Holender was following.

Cian dropped his book-bag down beneath the chalkboard, beside the standing flag. He'd been provided implied permission to get situated, so he sat down at the desk farther to the right. He opened the bucket, and checked under the desk, locating the smaller cup where the water-diluted clay was placed. It wouldn't do him any good on the floor, so he picked it up and put it on the desk. While returning to an upright position, Cian's stopped abruptly from an unexpected sight. His head had nearly bumped into the teacher's. They had been trying to sit down at the same time.

Cian was taken aback, momentarily stunned. He blinked in surprise. Mr. Holender just laughed again, apparently thinking nothing of it.

"Since you're new to pottery, I thought it best we start with a flower pot and base. Making a plate is about as simple as we can get, so it's a good starting point," the teacher suggested. He set an example piece on his desk with the base plate and the pot separated. They were close enough that the swirled texture to the surface beneath the glaze was visible from where Cian sat.

"It probably won't end up being this flat or even. This one was made on a pottery wheel, and they don't give me the budget for that. Instead, the coils of clay will be molded into a basic shape and size. The slip will be used to smooth it down and finish the form off." While speaking, he had reached into the white bucket, removed one of the clay coils, and wrapped it around itself into a spiral on Cian's desk. "If you wrap a few more around it, then press down, you'll start to have the basic shape. You can worry about making the curve later. Just try to get it flat for now."

The majority of the process was one that he would have figured out on his own, but Cian maintained the appearance of listening to what he was being told. He hadn't worked with real pottery, but who hadn't played with play-doh at least once? He nodded in all the right places to prove he was being attentive, rolled up his sleeves so as not to stain a second sweater, and got to work. He wrapped a second coil around the first, pressed downwards with his palm to squish it downwards, and started molding it as best as he could.

Mr. Holender watched over Cian for the first minute or so, checking that he wasn't making any specific mistakes. He nodded a few times in approval, and pointed to the other side of the room. "I've got a few lesson plans to fill out for the rest of the week, so I'll be over at my desk working on that. That ok?"

Cian bobbed his head. He was hunched over the top of his work in concentration and paying no mind to his surroundings, entranced by the project.

As his fingers rubbed against the sleeked surface, he could imagine the patterns he might set across the edges, and how the end product might appear. Thus far, it wasn't remarkable, but there were no apparent blemishes, and he could add more detail to it once the basic frame was done.

Time slipped onwards, consumed beyond his notice. Either the noises had come to a stop, or they had been present for long enough that they were no longer worth his attention and the stimuli had been filtered out. He did notice when the wooden floor decided to snip and moan in complaint of being stepped on in the wrong place, proving that he hadn't entirely lost his grounding in reality, but he insisted it wasn't his concern and didn't bother to look.

That was a mistake.

He was drawn out of his trance by a sudden movement. A damp rag pressed against his mouth, and a callused thumb and index finger pinched his nostrils together so he couldn't breathe. His chair pulled backwards, robbing him of the stability of having all four legs of his seat against the ground. Pressure began to build in his throat and his chest. For a second, he was completely frozen from shock, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. The door locked automatically and he hadn't heard it open, so nobody should have entered the room that wasn't already there. Was this some sort of a joke?

Cian reached away from the plate and attempted to pry the hands away from his mouth. Mr. Holender laughed childishly and applied more force to restrain him. Evidently, this was a joke to someone in the room, but it wasn't the type Cian was going to find funny- not in the slightest.

"Say, Cian, does this rag smell like chloroform to you? I'm pretty sure it does, but I think you need to check to make sure" Mr. Holender taunted with a gleeful, almost sing-song like ring in his voice. The inflection could have argued that it wasn't meant to be serious, but the action itself and his persistence definitely implied otherwise.

While his mouth was being held, the rest of his body wasn't restrained, arms, back and shoulders included. Cian stopped pulling at the hands against his mouth, reached across the desk, and grabbed the bowl of slip. He leaned forward, forcing Mr. Holender to follow him in the motion. This arranged their positions so he could throw the remaining contents of the bowl, along with the bowl itself, directly into the teachers' face.

Mr. Holender hadn't moved backwards, but getting doused with any substance had a tendency to make a person hesitate and flinch. He coughed and gagged while trying to maintain his position. In doing so, his grip loosened just enough for Cian to stumble out of the chair. He gasped to take in a breath that wouldn't involve knocking himself unconscious. Before he had the chance to move away, Mr. Holender tried to reach out for Cian's neck. This prompted Cian to simultaneously step on the teachers' foot, curl his hand into a fist and punch him in the nose. The momentum he could build up left much to be desired, and he wasn't very strong, but the shot connected. That was enough to give him a few moments head start to run.

The door to the hallway locked from inside of the room. If he reached it, he could leave, but this entire wing of the school was empty at this time of day. Unless he knew he could make it out of the arts building and into the gymnasium or the main building of the high school, it wouldn't matter if he left this specific room. They were alone. He faced the back wall, searching for a window or any other possible way out. His hands shook, particularly his right, which had started to throb from not forming his punch correctly. Where was he going to go?

Whatever he chose to do, he had to do it quickly, because Holender wasn't wasting any time in trying to chase after him. "I guess I can't stop you from trying to run away, if that's what you want," he stated with such a casual voice that it proved all his earlier behavior disingenuous. He reached into his pocket, revealing a slipjoint knife that he flicked open with dramatic flair and enthusiasm. An exuberant grin had spread across him from ear to ear, contorting his face in a downright unnatural way. "I'm always up for a game of tag. You probably don't know, wouldn't know, but I used to be quite good at this. Hope I haven't gotten rusty~!"

Cian tried desperately to scan the area for where he could go, but he didn't see an opening to leave the area. He was stuck between the circle of desks, the wall and a standing flag pole beside the wall, all of which cornered him from moving. He could feel a quiver running through his breath as his mind raced ahead of him, searching for the solution he'd thus far overlooked.

Mr. Holender crept closer, cradling the knife in his palm as if it was a precious heirloom. "I can't say I won't enjoy this. I just didn't think that you would," he taunted. Each time he opened his mouth to intimidate, his pace slowed and his guard dropped. If there was ever an opening, it was now.

Before Holender had finished speaking his final word, Cian knocked down a chair with his foot. He pushed it directly into Holender's path as a way to stall for time while he tried to reach for something new.

He planted one foot on the base of the flag pole and yanked upwards, dislodging the flag from the stand. He turned the pole forward, switching the positioning of his hands so the end of the metal pipe was facing ahead of him. If he could keep himself from being within range of the knife, he wouldn't get hurt, at least in theory.

A closer look at Holender revealed that the battle damage wasn't pretty. The film of slip had begun to dry, cracking at the points of his wrinkles and expressions. Blood caught on the surface, caking beneath his nose, and travelling through the crevices by the side of his chin. The whites of his eyes had turned pink. The damage was frightening to see, and yet it didn't seem to faze Holender in the slightest. If anything, he looked like he was enjoying this.

"Well, hm, what do you think you're going to do with that? I'm all for creativity, but I don't think patriotism can save you," he remarked with the same sing-song-ey tormenting tone as he'd used at the beginning

Cian held onto the pole for dear life. He took another step back, nearly stumbling over the top of his own book-bag as he attempted to scurry towards the opposite side of the room. He would have made progress if Holender hadn't chosen to toss the plate of a finished flower pot at his head.

As soon as he saw it coming, he tried to dodge. In spite of his attempt, it still hit the side of his shoulder. The sting of the impact lingered long after the plate dropped, shattering on the floor.

Holender climbed over the top of the chair and sprinted ahead towards Cian with the knife. Cian attempted to swing at him to knock him back. The weight of the pole was heavier than he anticipated, and it sank towards the ground before he could pull it back and try again.

Holender attempted to shift towards Cian's right. It would have been his blind side if Cian didn't choose to turn along with him. Holender thrust the knife forward towards Cian's chest, and Cian's only chance at avoiding it was to duck towards the ground. He spun sideways as he dodged, swinging the pole. It didn't hit, but it had enough potential to do so that Mr. Holender had needed to back away mid-stroke to avoid the blow. Cian wasn't able to slip away quite as well. The blade of the knife ripped through his sweater and into his right arm, causing a long gash to rip through it.

Cian struggled to keep his hold on his weapon. He readjusted the position he was holding it in to something that felt more natural so he wouldn't let go. His fingers curved around, balancing the flag as if in what he failed to realize was an upside-down rendition of the way a cue stick was handled. Instead of trying to move away, he concentrated on staying calm. He took aim and thrust the bottom end at the center point of Mr. Holender's neck. Remarkably, the shot connected.

Holender started to choke from the pressure. While he was still too distracted to strike, Cian pulled away and up, smacking the teacher on the side of his head. The strike was strong enough to make him unsteady, stumbling sideways with a sway so heavy that Cian was tempted to draw parallels to the appearance of a low budget movie zombie.

This was the best opportunity for a swift getaway that he could foresee getting in the near or far future, so Cian sprinted towards the door. He released the pole from his left hand and reached out towards the handle. He fumbled to wrap both of his increasingly unsteady hands around the oval and twist. He almost started to feel it shift when his attempt was interrupted by the shock of cold metal being hooked beneath his chin. It pressed against his neck with such force that he wouldn't have been amazed if it did damage to his larynx or dislocated his jaw.

Cian strained in an attempt to remove the pole from his throat, to no success. Gravity was on the assailant's side since they were hanging from their knees, using a lamp on the ceiling as if they were a trapeze artist.

Since when had there been a second person in the room? Cian distinctly didn't remember that door ever opening. He would have questioned this vigorously if he didn't have more pressing concerns, such as being choked for the second time that day. That tended to be distracting.

Mr. Holender tried to pick his knife up from the ground. He was fumbling all over the place. The strike had passed by his ear with enough force that it had disrupted his sense of balance and his vision was becoming increasingly blurred as well. Needless to specify, he was far from pleased.

"Dammit, Valentine, get here faster next time! My head hurts like, well, like someone hit it with a metal pole," he complained while looking up at the ceiling. "I want you to hold the kid in place, got it? He's as jittery as Jello and more trouble than some scrawny little brat gets away with!"

Cian was too focused on the task of getting oxygen to look above him. By using both his right and left hands and holding the bar, he was able to do a partial chin-up and relieve the pressure temporarily. Survival had to be the primary point of his attention, but he really did have to wonder why this Valentine person was consorting with his art teacher for the sake of killing him. He couldn't recall what he would have done to deserve provoking this. There were plenty of students who held grudges against him, and he had no reservations about displaying insubordination to incompetent teachers, but Mr. Holender had never been incompetent.

"Are you sure? This is just a kid. Who would?" The new voice, by basic elimination, had to belong to the aforementioned Valentine.

Mr. Holender started twitching from being questioned. "I'm almost positive- this midget is a claim, Michaelis'. He all but told me himself."

"Why the heck would he do that? He must have been looking for a fight if you did. Could this be some sort of a trap?"

"Not entirely sure why, but he was acting like he isn't aware and he'd be prepared if it was intentional. I think he honestly doesn't know."

The conversation was taking place directly over his head, partially in the literal sense and entirely in the figurative. They were speaking ambiguously enough that, while he could tell it was the answer, he couldn't tell what the meaning was beyond one implication. The illogical feats and problems were intertwined, connected by a similar source of origin. This involved Mr. Michaelis.

Cian would have pondered the subject longer, but he realized while hanging with his chin above the bar that he wasn't quite as caught as he'd believed he was. He finished the chin up, raising his shoulders to the bar, swayed backwards so he wouldn't tilt to catch on the bar, and let go. He dropped four or five feet before he hit the ground and ran for the door again. His hand pressed against a bumpy but solid surface when he tried to unlatch the lock. The metal had been melted and sealed, destroying his exit. While the other two were still occupied bickering, Cian tried to ram his body against the door, in hopes that the hinges wouldn't be nearly so sturdy. It accomplished little more than to create a very loud thud before he fell over on the ground again.

Mr. Holender slinked across the room until he was standing beside his intended prey, still wearing his perpetual smile. "I'd have told you to put him on the ground so I can reach his fingers, but I guess our new friend has taken care of that effort on our behalf. You're a clever boy, but you're the stupid kind of clever. It's really going to do you no good, you know," he taunted sweetly.

Cian chose this as the proper opportunity to gather up a mouthful of saliva and spit in Mr. Holender's face. This was not appreciated.

It was direct enough of a provocation that it inspired Mr. Holender to grab Cian, pin him to the wall by his throat and knock the side of his head against the door. Cian attempted to kick Holender back, which Mr. Holender then prevented by also stepping down on Cian's foot and pinning it as well, stretching Cian's body in a way people weren't supposed to move.

"Now, really, what made you think that was going to do anything positive? I'll let you live a little longer, so I can break the joints in your legs too before I get around to your neck, but you'd really rather I don't. Trust me, I know myself, you don't," he threatened into Cian's ear. He would have kept going, but someone cut him off.

"Hey, uh, Holly?"

The choice in nickname might have been taken as a joke, perhaps even worth a chuckle, if it was a casual situation. Here, it was met with a snap of the neck to look and a snippy, impatient "what?"

"Isn't it a really bad idea to wait to kill him? If you torture him after-"

"Well, then he can't enjoy the agony, can he?"

"Yeah, I guess, but, then aren't we running the risk that it'll stop being two against one?"

"Torturing and desecrating corpses isn't fun. The whole point is that they're awake to feel it. Trust me, he's just a witless pawn, and he isn't going to cross the board so let me enjoy myself."

"Maybe if you use the chloroform first and take him so he's woozy or can't-"

Mr. Holender had begun to glower at him. "It's an order, Valentine. Just do it."

Cian's inner commentary wanted to make a sarcastic remark on the subject of that statement. The pair was conversing as if he wasn't present, and while it was also vague, had given him a reason to believe that there was a way to get out of here and not do it inside a body bag- a way that involved Mr. Michaelis.

Valentine leaped down from the ceiling and landed on the floor. The light swayed from side to side, passing across the room with the swirling motion of a pendulum. It flickered, showing nothing more substantial than the occasional glimpse of him while he approached.

The mixture of adrenaline and plain old apprehension robbed Cian of most of his ability to see detail. Beyond the fact that Valentine had a layered hair cut and eyes such a shade of neon electric blue that they looked like color contacts, he couldn't make out an appearance, only motions. He came to a stop beside Mr. Holender's and nervously reached out to take over.

Cian tried to struggle again while they were switching off who was holding him. They had taken turns in such a way that during the transitional phase, both of them were pinning him down, increasing their strength instead of lessening it. Valentine didn't convey confidence in his body language. His strength was a contradiction of his demeanor in the worst way, because it felt like spikes were running through Cian's limbs and nailing him through the walls. He wanted to squirm, but was rendered unable, causing his next shake to be more along the lines of a convulsion than an attempt to escape.

There was a technique Cian hadn't tried yet. The school was supposed to be deserted by this time of day, and enough noise was coming from the room that he would have expected it to be heard if there was someone. It was unlikely, but it could work.

Cian took in as deep of a breath as he could manage and shouted at the top of his lungs. It was an act of desperation, but he refused to ask for it in such a way that it would have been demeaning. "Mister Michaelis!" Speaking at that high of a volume caused the aching in his already sore throat to intensify.

He'd meant to either stop there, or use the rest of his breath to shout the word 'help'. For some reason he didn't quite comprehend, he lost track of what he'd intended to use. The instant he'd called out that name, instinct started to take hold, calling forth a series of words he hadn't so much as thought before proclaiming. "I order you, kill him!"

Cian barely made it to the end of the sentence before Valentine struck his gut, knocking the wind out of him. "Heeey, stop squirming around, it's really not cool," he complained with a pout that seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation.

Valentine then looked away towards Mr. Holender, attempting to receive some sort of an instruction. "Which hand do you want to go for first, cause I really think we're gonna need to make this quick, and,"

Sebastian had heard the summons. It wasn't truly necessary, but he wasn't going to reveal that part.

Sebastian knew something was wrong about part-way through the attempt. He could sense that his master was in turmoil… and he'd neglected to intervene primarily for the sake of his own amusement. He was curious to see what would happen if the child tried to handle himself in a threatening situation. He wasn't disappointed.

The more parallels he could find between this boy and his previous form, the more his own memories were refreshed. It had always been morbidly entrancing, to watch over Ciel when he was faced with harm and torment. To see this doppelganger damaged, droplets of blood trickling down open wounds; panic and desperation set into his heart, was worth a few moments of admiration.

Of course, this opinion changed drastically when the nuisances to cause it became an actual threat. He wouldn't have allowed this to continue on regardless of being beckoned or not. Receiving an order just shortened the delay.

Had Cian not already been rendered speechless by the blow to his stomach, he would have been as a result of what followed. The action was so swift that Cian failed to process it. A second prior, Valentine had been holding him down, causing pressure. Mr. Holender continued to kneel to his side, holding the knife and preparing to strike, but Valentine had abandoned the position with such swiftness that it gave the impression of flitting or teleportation instead of a full motion.

A pair of scissors had been tossed across the room, metal tip facing out. Its trajectory would have set it to hit the very top of the back of Mr. Holender's neck, severing the medulla oblongata from the spinal cord and instantly killing him. Valentine had noticed it coming, and he couldn't guarantee that Holender would have ducked properly to avoid it, so he'd left his position for the sake of a previous order, to defend his life. He caught the scissors by the blade and discarded them by stabbing it into the wall.

In the half of a second it had taken Valentine to run through that motion, Sebastian had appeared directly behind Mr. Holender. His arm aligned parallel to the way that Holender's had been outstretched, and Sebastian's hand wrapped around the other man's wrist with enough pressure to inhibit the circulation of blood and force his fist to open. His other hand pressed into Holender's shoulder, pulling and twisting until he heard a series of snaps, cracks and a pop. The fact that the man ended up screaming in agony for it was an after-effect of his arm being dislocated from its socket and broken in multiple locations. He fell to the ground. Sebastian pinned him there.

As much as he enjoyed the show, it was no reason to display mercy. Now that it had happened, Sebastian did know why this had taken place, and he was highly displeased by it. Sebastian smiled predatorily, kneeling over the human who dared to lay a hand on his master with victory in his eyes.

"As much as your motivations for one contractor to assault another without provocation interest me, his orders are absolute. I am certain you know this well," Sebastian stated with a dissonant calm.

When Mr. Holender could stop screaming, he tried to laugh. The end result was more along the lines of a screech. "What the-? How the hell can you be here if you _don't know?"_ he questioned, disbelieving.

Valentine walked over to the wall and removed the scissors. He tried to glare, which was notably less convincing than Holender's expression, and aimed the scissors towards Cian. Sebastian released one hand from holding Holender, lifted his arm up and caught the pair from mid-air. He slipped them back into his pocket.

While everyone else appeared pre-occupied by the interruption, Cian had moved away from the door, grabbed the flag pole off the ground, and tried to dash across the room to escape. His pathway was blocked by Sebastian and Holender both. Holender was in the process of trying to retrieve his knife while he was speaking, so Cian tried to pin it down beneath his foot.

Holender saw the opportunity in this and reached out towards Cian's leg. He yanked the boy downwards, with the intent of making him collapse on the floor in a completely vulnerable position. "Get the supplies, Val, we're-!" he had started to shout, but he didn't make it all the way through.

Instead of acting defensively, or not acting at all, Cian decided to use the suddenly gained momentum in an assault of his own. He smacked the end of the flag pole over the top of Holender's head, parting the poof of his hair, and knocking against the indentation of a soft spot. It stunned Holender past the point of movement.

Cian expected to continue falling since neither of his legs was correctly positioned upon the ground, but to his surprise, he didn't. He was being supported by a person who was standing behind him, manipulating the weapon of choice while Cian still held it. Before he fully understood what was happening, Cian's arms followed through with a second motion that he had not intended to make, lifting upwards and jabbing out, bending with Sebastian's lead.

The hollow, rough edge of the pole struck deep into Holender's eye. It was twisted and retracted as swiftly as it had struck, tearing out a large chunk of flesh and a partially ruptured eyeball. The socket bled profusely, gushing out as if he'd burst, and the man collapsed to the ground a bloody mess. It had happened so swiftly that there was no time for anyone else to intervene, human or demon.

The moment the commotion sounded, Valentine froze, dumbfounded. He had stretched a hand out to reach for Holender before he fell, but it was already useless. A yell attempted to form in his throat, but it continually paused and restarted, like an mp3 on a frozen computer or a broken record, pending on the time period. Aside from his clothes, his form was fading, progressing from pale to translucent to transparent.

"No, no, no, you can't have killed him! No!" Valentine screamed in a whine. His voice, too, began to fade.

Sebastian, and many others, had been subjected to this in the past. It was their rendition of a deportation. Demons who resided full time for a human were granted work visas of sorts. When the human left, they were forced to leave, and their nearly omniscient overseer had far more influence than any government agency. If this was the same process, and Sebastian had every reason to think it was, there would be no trace of him left behind.

"I suggest for you to be more vigilant in future instances," Sebastian said back, slightly irritated by the display of groveling, but choosing not to be openly bitter.

Sebastian had maintained a supportive hold over a quavering Cian, keeping him from falling. The flag pole fell to the ground with a bouncing clank. Cian tried to obscure his view behind his hands, but it didn't help him much. He couldn't stop from staring at the mangled corpse on the floor, and the entire event was a blur. It had begun as such a mundane afternoon, a meaningless invitation, and now his art teacher was lying dead on the floor. He refused to allow himself to be hysterical because he didn't want to be pathetic, but he was completely petrified, and it showed in his breathing pattern. He was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Damn, why hadn't he taken that sign to skip school?

"Please calm yourself, young master. They are both gone, and can no longer harm you." Sebastian spoke in an attempt at being reassuring. Compassion wasn't a specialty.

Cian's labored breathing continued. His arm continued to throb, compelling him to lower his hand and clasp the open wound. He had regained enough stability that he was able to uphold himself. Sebastian stepped away.

Cian's could form connections between the new occurrences, but he had no explanation for why this was happening in the first place. He had to get an answer. He couldn't handle this situation, otherwise. "Be forthcoming this time. Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice shaking as he forced himself to speak.

The game as it stood had been growing tiresome, and Sebastian couldn't ignore a command. This seemed like as good of an opportunity as he was going to get to explain. "Of course."

Sebastian lowered himself onto one knee and set his hand onto his chest, bowing respectfully. "Pardon me for my rudeness. As in our previous encounters, I have neglected to introduce myself properly. The name I have been granted is Sebastian Michaelis. I am a demon and your butler."


	5. Contention

Chapter V: Contention

Each of them had been offered an explanation. Sebastian's had arrived in the form of an unspoken realization during the fight. Cian's had been more direct, and it made a lot less sense.

"What?"

Sebastian might remember why that statement was so significant, but Cian didn't have a clue what it implied, or why it was supposed to explain anything. Servants were reserved for those with ludicrously large fortunes and expansive mansions. Furthermore, they were human. There was no way that 'butler' was the proper word to use here. As far as he could tell, monster would have been a far more accurate description.

"I don't have a butler, nor would I have one," he stated, rightfully confused.

Sebastian expected some contesting. In the meanwhile, he started moving across the room to gather Cian's misplaced things and set the room back in order. He placed the flag pole back in its proper place, and noticed that the edges were fraying. To fix this, he removed the scissors from his interior pocket and cut an even strip away from the edge. The flag was now visibly asymmetrical if held out, but the white and red colors were enough to make the imbalance appear unremarkable when it was at rest. Nobody would notice the difference.

Sebastian approached Cian with the strip of cloth in hand. He multitasked by prepping to tend to the wound while speaking with complete honesty.

"In your previous life, you were a member of the aristocracy in England, and I was the head of your service staff. I wish that I could be of more assistance, but regretfully, it is the nature of death to separate memories from the soul. You will be unable to recall. I could recite your entire life's story and it would remain dissonant," he explained. Sebastian tied the scrap piece of flag cloth around Cian's open wound with enough pressure to slow the bleeding.

The chaos of the event was catching up with Cian, and it was sending him consistently further into shock. He didn't ask another question right away. He was too busy attempting to process what that implied.

What Sebastian was saying should have been absurd. Cian wanted to dismiss it as false. If it had been a normal situation, it would have been all too easy to label this as the ravings of a loon. This should have been almost impossible to accept, yet after everything else that had just happened, it no longer seemed that absurd. After what he had just seen first-hand, he was willing to accept just about anything.

Sebastian picked up the messenger bag set in the back of the room. He examined the buttons to assure they were aligned properly, flattened the strap, and set it over the top of his shoulder. The circumstances had changed. It was no longer safe to leave Cian alone.

"Please wait, young master, and I shall escort you home once I am finished. We can attend to whatever concerns you may have then," Sebastian requested. Cian's head swayed in a manner Sebastian interpreted as a yes. , With that agreement established, he stepped away to clean up any remaining, suspicious discrepancies that might have been left behind.

While Sebastian started to move across the room, attending to any minuscule detail he could find, Cian stared blankly across the room. It was a complete wreck. He tried to survey it as a whole, but every time he tried to look away, his attention was brought back to the corpse in the center of the room and the pile of dirty clothes that had dropped beside it.

Nothing in this room seemed comfortable or cozy anymore. It felt like death. No matter what was done to repair its appearance that essence wasn't going away.

As he kept watching, he noticed a bright glimmer near the jacket. It looked to be about the same size as a button. It was a potentially insignificant little detail, but for a reason he couldn't quite place, it struck him as almost unsettling. He couldn't place where it would have come from, nor could he tell what light it was possibly reflecting. Curiosity was enough of a motivation to make him investigate at least a little.

Cian had brought himself to take a step towards it. He fought against the rising urge to leave and walked around the body over to the pile of clothes. The jacket itself was unremarkable, made from cheap materials that tore easily. Cian picked it up and held it upside-down to check for any concealed weapons that might have been left behind. A jingling noise sounded as the source of the spark rolled across the ground, settling at his feet.

It was a piece of jewelry. From the length of the chain, it appeared to be an old, tarnished charm bracelet. There was only one charm on it- a small paint brush and a wrench crossed together, intertwined with a dotted coil that he was tempted to assume as a thorny vine. It was about the size of the nail on his pinkie, and the detail was remarkable. The bracelet was too filthy to have a natural sheen, and yet, it still shimmered in his shadow.

Cian picked the bracelet up by the clasp of the chain and raised it to eye level to take a closer look. The second that his hand had touched it, the charm had begun to glow. At first, he thought it was a trick of his eyes, but the vibrant green light flashed, growing in intensity until it was strong enough to illuminate the entire room. He blinked reflexively, and by the time he opened his eye again, the light had extinguished. The charm was intact, but the materials had changed. What had once been silver was now bronze instead. Now that he had the object in his hand, it seemed to have a malicious spirit to it, as if it was filled with an overwhelming malevolence.

Not noticing the presence of the light would have been a feat. Sebastian had seen the light appear. A sense of dissastisfaction had come over him instantly. He'd been dreading this might be the case when Cian was attacked without provocation, and that one flash of color was enough to prove him right. "This is quite troublesome," he whispered into his hand.

Cian hadn't expected to hear Sebastian standing right next to him. It gave him a jolt to see it, but the shock passed by quickly enough, and he was able to hide the emotion with a scowl. He'd been faced with so many unexpected things by now that this one paled in contrast.

He held the bracelet between two fingers, extending his arm towards Sebastian. "What is this?" he snapped the question out to try and recreate some control through authority.

"That charm is a seal of personal summoning. Many such symbols are used throughout the development of demonic armies, and the shape of the charm is representative of the demon's specialization," Sebastian answered concisely. He was ready to stop, but Cian was observing him expectantly, waiting for more information. There had to be more to it than that.

"Please elaborate. Why was that item left after his disappearance, and how does this conflict relate to me? Thus far, I fail to see the connection."

If this had occurred yesterday, the answer was straightforward. Being destined to become a demon's equivalent to cake and ice cream was basic. This wasn't nearly so simple. Sebastian had to choose his words cautiously.

"The rank of a demon is determined by how many legions follow him. When the tiers of the hierarchy are preparing to shift, those who wish to be promoted to a higher level of nobility will try to prove themselves worthy by collecting these. Each demon selects a human ally who contracts them to the plane of the living without a specific wish or goal, and the last demon that remains on earth is victorious. The condition for a demon of my rank's stay in the world of humans revolves around the presence of a contractor, and as you've witnessed, that is destroyed primarily through their death. When a demon fails to protect their human and is summoned back, this charm forms in their place, swearing them to obey whoever possesses it." In summary, those charms represented contracts of servitude among demons.

This event was arranged every three centuries or so, and Sebastian had never taken interest. He was fully content with his position among his kind, and the sort who tended to pursue the opportunity were mainly lowlifes with a wish for glory and respect that they didn't deserve. Their tactics were worthy of scorn, and the fate of serving another _demon _who had previously been of equivalent standing was one of the worst imaginable.

Cian's pulse had begun to reverberate inside of his ears, pounding with a constant rhythm that wanted to lurch up his throat. "And you have selected me to participate, without my consent?"

Sebastian wasn't happy about the circumstances either, so he could hardly blame the boy for being cross. He wouldn't remember how he had chosen to accept a deal when his motives were gone. It was going to seem unfair.

A human being reincarnated with a contract but with the conditions erased was an unprecedented circumstance, and with the timing of it, a very unfortunate one as well. Sebastian knew that his superiors wouldn't hear him out or make an exception when this problem was the result of a previous mistake. He wasn't one for using obscenities carelessly, but there were certain situations that they applied to better than any other words, and there was no better way to phrase this; they were fucked.

"It was not my intention to become involved in this. The other demons recruited humans specifically for this event. You had contracted me in the past, and the bond has carried over." Sebastian attempted to explain. Cian was not at all pacified by what he had been told. It was the truth, but it didn't sound truthful. Before he was provided the chance to speak again, Sebastian did.

"You have the ability to shun me, but regardless of my presence, others shall pursue you. I will not permit you to die." Again.

Accepting what Sebastian was stating at face value could be a mistake. Cian heard both what was said and implied. If the rest of the people involved had elected to do so, there was either a benefit he wasn't being told or he was being lied to. However, if he really was going to be chased by demons, and Sebastian truly did have his freedom bet on the task of keeping Cian alive, the odds in his favor were significantly higher with Sebastian than without him.

After his calculations, Cian settled on an inquiry. "How have other demons have been able to obtain recruits on what is essentially a suicide mission?" Sebastian had kept oddly quiet, as if he didn't want to answer. "I order you to tell me," Cian demanded.

Sebastian really hadn't wanted to touch on this part, but he was trying to earn trust as well, so it was in his better interest to not skimp on any specifications when he replied. "They provide incentives. Most commonly, those humans who choose to participate are doing so with the intention of being elected the second-in-command for the respective demon they happen to be assisting. A contract provides a demon claim over the humans' soul upon its entrance to the afterlife. By manipulating the structure of these other options, this can include appointing a previously human counterpart to their prior position in the hierarchy if they succeed, transforming the human into a demon as well. Do you understand, or need I explain more thoroughly?"

At this point in, Cian was calculating if there was a way out, but the explanation was thorough enough that it gave a context for all that had occurred thus far. There wasn't a loophole to release him from this game. He hadn't even done anything, and he was stuck as the eventual belonging of a near stranger. Worse yet, he really could fathom the idea that he was damned from the very beginning.

"I order you to be honest. Are the incentives promised to the others granted?" Cian asked solemnly.

Sebastian didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes."

"What happens to a claimed soul?"

"It is devoured and erased from existence. Their memories and essence are absorbed by whoever consumes it. They do not reach an afterlife, and though there are rare exceptions, no longer have a consciousness," he explained in as straightforward and rational a manner possible.

To most, it was a fate worse than even hell because it gave no second chances. If you ceased existing, there was no redemption, no future, merely nothing. Sebastian hadn't looked forward to this question. He had time to brace for it, but he couldn't imagine a positive outcome. To Cian, it actually didn't sound that bad.

The idea of becoming immortal didn't strike him as appealing. It wasn't as if he had any aspiration or hope of reaching heaven. He already viewed the world with cynicism, and to watch that which he so strongly disliked until the end of time seemed dumb. The world that he knew was a horrible place, and so long as he left a mark on it in the present, he didn't mind the idea of not 'being'. Out of everything he was confronted with right now, that was the part that he could face with complacency.

Returning to the matter at hand, there was still a problem that had to be taken care of. "See to it that any traceable records of his employment are eradicated and the body discovered elsewhere. An investigation would be troublesome, and I don't care for the police," Cian ordered. Sebastian had manipulated memories on his own behalf, so he'd be able to do it again.

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian would need to correct the state of the room later. The dead could wait, and priorities told him that there was something of higher urgency a few meters away.

Sebastian reached his arm out and pushed back the boy's bangs, setting the palm of his hand against Cian's forehead. Cian flinched, and Sebastian chose to disregard the negative reaction for the time being. Based upon the heat Cian was giving off, he had a low grade fever. "You do not appear well, young master."

Unwilling to comment on his own condition, Cian pulled Sebastian's hand away and tried to adapt back into a more authoritative position. "Sebastian, take me home," he demanded, locking his eye into as stern of an expression as he could feign while he was stuck here in this room. Sebastian knew the way, and Cian knew he did, so giving directions would have been a waste of effort.

The traffic at five in the afternoon was so slow that it was quicker if they walked to Cian's house. The wound was a potential irritant, but there was no immediate threat to Cian's life, so they travelled on foot.

Cian had stubbornly insisted to walk on his own for the first few blocks. He'd intended to make it all the way home and not demand extra help. It sounded like a good idea when it first came to him, and grew gradually less so as he got further from the school. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the events of the last two days were catching up with him. His legs weaved awkwardly, crossing paths with each other when they weren't supposed, causing him to sway from side to side as he walked. It created a serious concern that he might accidentally stumble straight into something.

In order to prevent Cian from falling into an object or onto the ground, Sebastian carried him the rest of the way home. As humiliating as Cian had previously implied being carried around by a teacher would have been for him, the likelihood of that actually happening this far away from school grounds was slim enough for him to ignore it.

Each step Sebastian took forward was smooth and well timed. Cian could feel a bouncing pattern. It persisted from the moment when his eyelid began to flutter up and down. Cian tried to concentrate upon anything he could think of, but the metronomic stepping along with the calm rushing of the cool breeze outside only exhausted him further until he drifted asleep.

Sebastian steadied the sleeping boy in his arms. He took care to cradle him with caution, guarding over him while he rest, and finished the journey home in silence.

The home remained entirely unchanged from the outside. Not so much as a single flower bud had budged from the side of its pot. The image was deceptively stagnant, down to the silhouette of the cat resting behind the curtains in the living room.

Children frolicked through the streets and yards, attempting to avoid the grasp of their mothers or babysitters while being brought inside. A few of the mothers spared the occasional incredulous look in Sebastian's direction, likely wondering who he was. Sebastian took a key out of Cian's pocket and used it to open up the front door. He slipped off his shoes at the entrance to avoid dirtying the floor. A single glance around the premises was enough to prove the effort futile.

Various knick knacks had been pushed off of tables and shelves, some of which were now broken and blocking the path to the living room. It wouldn't take very long to fix, but it was another source of trouble, presumably caused by a distraught cat on a rampage. He'd attend to that soon.

Sebastian walked around the pieces of a fallen painted plate, through the kitchen, and entered the living room. He carefully set Cian across the couch and placed his head on a pillow. It didn't appear as if he would be waking up in the immediate future, so Sebastian took a light blanket from a nearby closet and draped it over Cian. He leaned over the boy where he rest and stared down at his sleeping face.

Cian's expression was discontented. People at rest were supposed to be at peace. Instead, he looked anxious and troubled.

Sebastian decided that watching the boy to make those types of observations was a bit invasive, and bided his time by tidying the house back up to the condition it was meant to be in. He would have spent it doting on the cat, but he couldn't find her anywhere.

Hours had passed before Cian's eyelid started to crack open and he regained consciousness.

For a brief moment, Cian was struck by the thought that perhaps the event was all just a crazy, particularly vivid nightmare. It was disproven before he could even begin to think of the idea as viable.

Not that far away from where Cian was sitting, the man in the black suit was standing by, watching over him in anticipation of his awakening. It was still strange to process the concept of why this figure was here. How he had gotten stuck inside of an attempt at a fantasy novel, he didn't know, but Cian had watched and read enough stories that he was partially savvy to the genre in question. No matter how he tried to avoid it, there wasn't going to be a way to escape this kind of trouble. From here onwards, it would be attracted to him as if he was a magnet and it was a paperclip.

Cian groaned as he sat upright on the couch. For having gone through a near death experience, his condition wasn't that horrible. His throat was sore enough that he knew his voice would be raspy if he tried to speak, and his arm was in pain, but each was to be expected. He had no broken bones, and the injuries he did have would repair. He raised the hand which wasn't attached to a hurt arm through his hair, covering the right side of his face while he tried to think of what he was supposed to do.

"Good evening, young master," Sebastian said. He appeared pleased. Cian immediately imagined an ulterior motive. The entire manner by which Sebastian was holding himself was bothering Cian to some degree, but the name, or lack thereof, stood out as the biggest issue.

"Stop calling me that. If you're going to continue posing as my teacher, it's not consistent," Cian ordered. He was giving a reasonable argument for why, but the bottom line was that it just bugged him.

"If I do not call you young master, then what should I refer to you by?" Sebastian inquired.

"For the sake of consistency, you should refer to me in the same manner which you address your other students. And while we're on this subject, well," providing instructions reminded Cian of what he was supposed to be doing. In order for Sebastian to successfully defend him, they would need to both reside in the house. How were they going to make that work?

"Since I'm assuming you will be staying here, you may use the guest room in the basement as you please so long as there isn't other company. From two to five in the morning, you have to stay out of sight, and you are to avoid my father at all costs. The study and bedroom upstairs are off-limits unless there is an emergency. Do not touch my books, do not answer the phone, do not take or spend any money without permission and do not go on my computer. Since you've been here for long enough to acquaint yourself with the layout, I take it you won't be requiring a tour." Cian avoided eye contact while he spoke. Delivering his statements in order and without interruption was easier to do when he wasn't getting distracted by behavior. This would have been far more effective if Sebastian was doing the same.

Sebastian was listening to traces of the instructions, receiving the general idea, but he wasn't focused on the boy. Her green eyes were so captivating, and she held herself with such grace and refinement while watching over the room. Sebastian couldn't resist at least getting close enough to reach her. Eulalie changed her point of focus in order to watch over Sebastian as well, becoming cautious as to where he was going.

When Cian located Sebastian's position in the room, he noticed that he wasn't being paid attention to. His expression narrowed with annoyance that Sebastian hadn't been listening to him. He was partially inclined just to let him do as he pleased and get his comeuppance, but decided against it.

"It's in your better interest not to get near her while she's up there. When she sits there, it means that she's in a bad mood. You should leave her alone," Cian advised. This suggestion went entirely unheard.

Sebastian was too entranced by her adorable face to heed what Cian had told him. He leaned around from behind the pillar, stretched his hand out from behind it, peeked at her and prepared to stroke the top of her head. This action was promptly responded against by a disapproving slap from the top of her paw.

The message that getting hit by the cat should have relayed was to back off. Cian was watching in anticipation of Sebastian doing just that. As it turned out, a single swat wasn't that effective of discouragement.

"You have such dainty paws, they are so charming," Sebastian gushed while attempting to reach his other hand over and grab her paw.

Eulalie backed away to the opposite side of the wall. Her ears pressed down against the side of her face and she hissed at him. That time, the message was too strongly conveyed for Sebastian to ignore.

The way Sebastian appeared so completely perplexed by why she was offended when Cian had already told him not to meant, in Cian's opinion, that he deserved the hostility. She had such a tendency to hold a grudge that it was highly possible she was never going to forgive him for doing that, either. He watched while Sebastian backed off. Cian expected that he would leave the room for a while in dejection, as any sensible person would. Thing was, Sebastian wasn't sensible when he was smitten.

A few seconds later, Sebastian had returned from the kitchen with a cat treat in hand. Eulalie might not have immediately accepted him, but if he put the treat out, he thought she would come back over to him in order to take it away.

"Here, Eulalie. I have brought you a treat," he told her while he approached. His voice had been raised enough to convey that he meant to admire her, not harm her.

Eulalie didn't even allow him to get close to the pillar beside the wall before she started to hiss at him. Sebastian set the treat down upon the perch, offering it to her. When his hand was on the surface, she'd taken it as her cue to jump off the perch, down onto an end table, and scurry off across the floor. She wanted nothing to do with that strange man whatsoever, and if he wasn't going away, she would.

Eulalie chose to take refuge on the couch. She leapt onto an armrest, stepped onto the blanket, and curled into a lump at the side of Cian's leg, pressing the top of her head against him as if to nestle him. Sebastian wondered how it was that the cat had come to favor Cian to that degree at all. He sighed in disappointment.

Lamenting, but finally resigned to it, Sebastian was able to accept her behavior as a call back to what was supposed to be his duty and priority. As much as he would rather be able to spend the remainder of the day stroking and coddling the feline, it was the human who he was supposed to be attentive towards.

Sebastian didn't approach too closely. "How are you feeling?" he asked from halfway across the room. He was trying to be respectful of the cat by keeping his distance, so as not to disturb her a second time.

"About as well as one could expect, provided the circumstance," Cian answered, his voice being just as raspy as he anticipated. He sounded terrible.

"Is there anything you would like for me to attend to?"

There was a delay before Cian spoke back. He hadn't thought about what he might want, not yet. He was a bit hungry, but mainly, he wanted a few moments to himself. This was a lot to take in, and it didn't seem likely that any more demons would be trying to attack him today, so it might be okay if he made an excuse. An idea did come to mind. There was potential that it would make him worse, but it was just as likely that food would be exactly what he needed, so it was worth a try.

"Retrieve dinner. There's an aptly named take-out restaurant on Douglas Street in the city known as the noodle box. I want a teriyaki box with chicken, and if they try to put the white noodles on top, I don't want them."

"I shall be certain to lock the door behind me." Sebastian would have preferred making food inside of the house over going out to get it. However, he had asked, and was therefore not in the proper position to contest. It honestly was a bad day for both of them; he wasn't going to stir a debate over nothing. "Should you require anything else of greater importance, or are in need of assistance, call my name. I will return immediately."

Cian reached across the coffee table, grabbing the remote. He pressed the power button and turned the television on, reverting into the habit of avoiding eye contact with Sebastian as if it was an oncoming train.

"That won't be necessary." He had the information he required, and thus, started to pay attention to the screen. Eulalie repositioned herself, snuggling to his side. Sebastian could find no other disasters in waiting, so he left as requested.

It would have been faster for Sebastian to transform and transfer over; turning back to a person when he reached the restaurant, but it also would have caused trouble to try and find a suitable place to turn back while in a moderately populated area. While humans were quick to dismiss what they didn't think of as reasonable, they tended to believe what they saw. It was best not to cause a commotion where he could avoid one. With that in mind, Sebastian retained his human form while walking down the street, following the sidewalks into the harbor.

Following the trail brought him away from the residential area and towards a waterfront park. A sidewalk and a stone fence had been built across the edge, marking off where it was acceptable to walk. The water reflected the nearly-set sun, creating a thin line of a fuchsia tinted violet separating the ocean from the sky. The faintest outlines of a mountains peaks cast across the bottom of the horizon. Tourists and residents alike had taken to staring in admiration at the fading scenery. Sebastian noticed and continued on his way without pausing. It wasn't worth his time.

The day was giving way, falling into evening. It hadn't discouraged people from gathering to enjoy the mild temperatures, and block his path. The multitude of humans were scattered across the park. Most of them were being polite enough to maintain the soothing pleasantness that nature had attempted to create. The fact that it needed to be specified that it was most, not all, was where the problem started.

A commotion was coming from around a bend in the road, rushing steadily closer with every passing second. Out of a desire not to have a part in this, Sebastian prepared to casually walk across the street. He wasn't given the opportunity to try. Before he could respond within human means to escape the chaos that was bound to be, a dog had rounded the corner and its owner trailed a few steps behind in an unsteady sprint.

At first glance, this was a normal enough sight of a girl struggling to keep her large, unruly dog from running off while dragging her along. She had no clue what she was doing, but it still seemed ordinary. It was moments later when the rest of it came into view.

Behind the girl and her pet, rushing in a waddle of a march in the formation of an army, an entire pack of Canadian geese were squawking furiously, flapping their wings and chomping with what appeared to be intention to attack. There was no possible way to avoid staring, at least momentarily. This truly was a sight to behold, for no other reason than how entirely bizarre it was. Geese were much quicker than one would have expected. They didn't appear that threatening to him, but they were being so loud and nasty that it had really frightened her.

Recognition cast across the girl's face when she caught sight of Sebastian. She was wearing the female uniform for the school; which appeared about the same as the boy's uniform, but with a gray pleated skirt instead of pants. It provided an instant explanation of why she might know him, but that didn't explain much else.

"AAAAH, Mr. Michaelis! Help me, they're really angry and they won't go away! I don't know what to do what to do, bad geese! Bad geese!" She exclaimed in a panic as she stumbled along. She was moving at too fast of a pace for her to stop easily, or for her to keep it up for much longer. Her charge forward was too swift for Sebastian to specifically avoid when she was able to remember him. For the sake of the guise he was stuck cooperating with whatever was going to happen. She reached out with her free hand, grabbed onto his arm as she ran by, and took hold of him to bring her to a stop.

If Sebastian had been nearly any other person, he would have toppled over when he was grabbed and used as an anchor. He skidded across the ground slightly from the unexpected force behind her grip. He wasn't given much of an opportunity to contemplate the success of that tactic before he was faced with a new problem. This girl had decided to hide away behind him, and the dog was hiding with her. The geese were continuing to charge, meaning that they were now coming directly towards him. It was a shame that he hadn't thought this far ahead, but he had neglected to bring any geese repellents with him.

Before the geese could get too close, Sebastian overpowered the volume of their cry by kicking at the rock wall repeatedly, creating as much noise as possible. It generated enough of a boom that the now startled geese backed away. A few of them seemed to speak up and voice a complaint, but they didn't want to stick around when they would be faced with listening to something that unpleasant.

As the geese fled the scene, the girl's expression lit up into a huge, relieved smile. "Thank goodness, thank you! It was that easy? I should've thought of that," she murmured, thoroughly impressed by him and surprised it was that simple to deter them. "Well, learn something new every day, I guess," she shrugged.

Sebastian took the moment she spared staring ahead to remove her hand from around his waist. She was too busy with her praise to notice. For the most part, she appeared okay. Her hair was ruffled and scruffy, but that appeared to be more of her choice in hairstyle than it was a result of the chase. It was a hairdo which he found to be vaguely familiar to him, on a face that was also nigh identical to a certain nuisance which he'd been forced to cope with in the past.

"I was just trying to feed the ducks 'cause they looked hungry and I wanted to help them. The geese came over, too, and I tried to shoo them away since I didn't have any more food and they didn't believe me, and then Pluto decided to bark which just made it worse and, so, uh. I'm sorry about this, Mr. Michaelis. Really, really sorry. I'm ok, so I'll let you get back to your walk now." With a parting smile and a nervous laugh, she waved behind her and walked away with the oversized dog. Sebastian didn't have any impulse to follow after her, so he continued onwards, ignoring what had just happened with every intention of never speaking of it again.

The sun had nearly set by now. Sebastian turned away from the park, crossed through a residential neighborhood and walked past a few hotels to follow the vibrantly glowing street lights that marked the edge of the inner harbor. Tourists were scarce with the time of night, and the architecture was elaborate enough that if not for the cars outnumbering the carriages on the stretch of road, Sebastian could have lost sight of the time in more respect than one.

The central streets drew in a fair amount of foot traffic, much of which seemed even more eclectic than the buildings. There was a woman walking on the opposite side of the street who was poorly groomed and twitching constantly. A few blocks up the road, there was a man standing next to an intersection, dressed in a black helmet and matching replica plastic body armor. Specifically he recognized it as being a Darth Vader costume. Understanding the concept failed to help- it just made it that much worse.

This city would have been prettier without people. While they were here, bizarre struck him as the more accurate word.

Sebastian could read the words up ahead, marking the location he sought. Beside the currently closed store two doors away, a homeless man with a cardboard sign was resting. Sebastian attempted to avoid him by walking in a curve, averting his path to head towards the street. This didn't prevent the man from attempting to plead with him, but he ignored the motion as fully as possible and continued on his way, behaving as if he hadn't heard a noise to begin with. It was the easiest way to discourage further attempts.

Without further distraction, Sebastian entered the marked door into the cramped restaurant. A line had formed directly beside said door, and there was very little room to move due to the number of people there. The employee at the front counter was taking orders at a swift enough pace, but the people in line were creating problems. The one at the front of the line was staring up at the menu with their hand under their chin, pondering the choice over as if they hadn't been given any time to make a selection when they had been at the back of the line. Another person ahead of him was holding a full-fledged conversation to themselves and no one aside from himself was paying enough attention to hear her agreements. In this case, there was an alternative explanation for the behavior that really did make sense, but Sebastian didn't know what a blue-tooth was.

He could have withstood the line in patience if it had lasted for two minutes. That much time had been expended waiting for the first person to decide on their order, and they were then told to wait again while it was being made. It was necessary for Sebastian to uphold the mask of perfection and capability. This form of an irritant was small, and he knew he shouldn't' allow it to bother him. Understanding that wasn't working.

By the time he had reached the front of the line, he was entirely ready to place the order as quickly as possible. He paid the cashier, stood back, waited for the food to be prepared, and listened through the list of four other names before he was finally able to receive what he had been sent here for.

Sebastian left with the box full of noodles, and made certain that the journey home would be less tedious by taking a short cut through an alley. He appeared in another set of shadows close to the home seconds later. In the future, he would be sure to remember that walking to that location was not worth the bother. It was much more convenient to do it this way.

The door to the house had been locked and latched, which didn't act as an obstacle. He slipped the lock open with a twist of the handle and stepped inside. He turned towards the door to set the safety precaution against human intruders back in place.

When he finally made it up the small set of stairs into said room, he saw Cian resting on the couch with his eye halfway open, watching something on the television without really concentrating on it. It was a good thing he was resting. Whether or not this was actually helping him to feel better, that wasn't so easy to discern.

As he entered the room, Sebastian glimpsed towards the image on the screen in mild curiosity. It had been a long time since he'd been stuck witnessing anything on television, but he knew he recognized one of the voices. It was the style of speech that caused him to remember, and sub-sequentially wonder why the person who played Captain Kirk all those years ago on Star Trek was wearing a suit and still performing on television. Tempted as he was to ask and see if Cian would respond Sebastian chose not to try. That he even remembered who that character was brought back mostly bad associations, and Sebastian had begun to hold his hand to his forehead to ward off the oncoming ache the thoughts of that nutcase created before he even recognized the gesture.

References that he didn't entirely understand and those he did aside, Sebastian put the box and the silverware down on the table. Many of the people he had seen sitting down in the restaurant had been consuming the noodles straight from the box, so he assumed a plate wasn't necessary. "Shall I get you something to drink youn?" The sentence ended up with an awkward structure, and his voice trailed off towards the end. He'd almost started to call Cian young master again.

Cian didn't notice what Sebastian was saying. He'd brought the food, and that was what he cared about. Cian grabbed the container from the table, opened up the top and looked inside. "This isn't how I ordered it," was all he said

Sebastian didn't want to go out a second time, but it was his fault for neglecting to check before leaving, and a mistake needed to be corrected. "Would you like for me to retrieve the-" he attempted to state the polite offer, and was cut off.

"It's past nine. They've closed by now." Cian twirled the noodles around the fork and took a bite. "I'll eat this. It isn't necessary, but I wouldn't mind a cake to make up for it, along with an iced tea to drink with dinner."

Subtle as it was, the start of a smirk was peeking through at the edge of Cian's mouth. In spite of attempts to disguise it, Sebastian could see when he'd begun to watch for it, and he wasn't entirely pleased with the implication. It meant he'd fallen for a trick, and the only mistake he'd made was trusting Cian's claim at face value. He decided to play along with it for the time being, anyway.

"If that is what you want, though it shan't be for the sake of making any sort of retribution. What flavor would you prefer?" The inflection he took such care to use meant to call Cian out and throw him off. It didn't have the intended effect.

"Apparently, you were well acquainted with my previous tastes. You should know what I would prefer," Cian said in an attempt to brush Sebastian away from the living room once more, flicking his hand back as he spoke to shoo him off.

"Then I suppose I will prepare whatever I can locate supplies in the house for."

This was the first time in nearly a year that the home had played resident to two humanoid-appearing people in the same room without having one be unconscious, intoxicated or incapacitated at the time. It wasn't conventional, but it was the mark of a turning point. From now on, someone was obligated to stay by his side, no matter what would attempt to take him. Trusting in such words sounded foolish, but the alternative's repercussions were even worse.

He'd made his gamble. Now it was just a matter of discovering if this would lead to success or a gruesome demise.


	6. Reset

Chapter VI: Reset

The following day, any sign in this city of the man who had once been Nikolai Holender had vanished from planet Earth. There may have been proof somewhere that he had existed which hadn't been found. That proof wasn't here.

The school day passed by in monotony, and Cian was thankful for that. Most of the time, it was boring to listen to lectures. Today, it was relaxingly simple to face problems as mundane as finishing up a few assignments for his classes. He hadn't needed to think about how warped the world was, or how he could be threatened any second he turned a corner. It felt normal. Well, at least until the moment when he passed by the door to the art room, it had.

Cian didn't mean to stop in his tracks and stare at the doorway, but when the reminders rushed over him, he couldn't move. It had been slightly less than twenty-four hours since he had last been inside of that room. It looked just like any other door in this school, yet the images of yesterday had given it an entirely new meaning. His throat started to ache at the thought.

No matter how many directions he viewed this door from, it looked wrong. The desks had been rearranged into groups of four, and the art supplies were kept locked inside of cabinets and there was a woman that he had never met sitting down at the worn desk by the window. Her name was inscribed on the name plate beside the door. If it wasn't for the misshapen flag standing in the corner, even he may have been inclined to think that Mr. Holender had never existed anywhere other than inside his imagination.

He understood why this happened. After all, he was the one who ordered it. That didn't make it any less creepy to witness. If it was this easy to get rid of Mr. Holender, there was no way to say with certainty that this wasn't the fate he would be facing, too? If he were to stop existing, as if he'd never been born to begin with, would it make that much of a difference? It was a cliché to so much as consider, but he didn't think it would.

Dwelling on this subject wouldn't be healthy for him, and he knew it. No matter how many moments he spent staring at this door, yesterday had still happened, and nothing he could do or think would change it. Cian tugged on the strap of his messenger bag to readjust it, looked down at the surface of the floor, and walked away. There was somewhere else he needed to be. Down the hallways he knew so well, the history classroom was waiting.

He passed through the crowd, walking in the opposite direction of most of the students he passed, and entered the main building. The clouded sand-blown glass set across the top half of the door revealed glimpses of a few other people sitting down in the front rows, as well as the figure of a tall man dressed entirely in shades of black. Cian twisted the handle and walked inside as casually as he could. His head was hung down to help him ignore the presence of the other students before he settled in a back corner with a notebook and pen.

Two of the five other teenagers in the room looked away from the chalkboard when the door had opened. Upon noticing who it was one of them had the audacity to begin to snicker. Presumably, they had some sort of smart-alecky comment in mind. Before it could form, it was interrupted by the crack of a ruler against the surface of the board in the front of the room. It startled the student into correcting their posture and staring straight ahead, eyes directly on the displeased teacher.

"The fact that you are here proves you have wasted my time once already, Clark. Do not do it again," Sebastian reprimanded, "I am not here because I wish to be, either. Now, shall we return to the lecture?"

Each of the five students nodded, some more hesitant than others, all of them alert. Their reasons differed, with the three boys mostly startled and the two girls entranced, but it stood as a school-wide consensus that it was not a good idea to cross Mr. Michaelis.

It was a requirement for the teachers to hold review sessions after school four days a week. Each session was set aside to cover the curriculum that one of the grades was covering, and while some students could elect to come, most were here out of necessity. Essentially, this was the special needs group, and from what Sebastian could tell, the need was for discipline.

With all of the attention in the room steadily focused on him, Sebastian returned to the lecture he had been giving about the Roman Empire. A girl kept raising her hand to ask questions every minute or so. At first, it was feedback. After a while, it got tedious to keep answering her, clarifying the same statements over and over with slightly different phrasing, but he stayed patient. The entire point of holding this study session was to make them understand. He couldn't move on until they did, and if this took him longer than an hour, then so be it. He wasn't that enthused about teaching, but so long as he was here, he was going to do the job well.

Cian didn't need to pay attention to the lecture. This was eleventh grade material, and thus, not his responsibility to learn for at least two years. He slouched over his seat, put on his headphones, and started working on the packet of math worksheets the class had been assigned today.

He placed his elbow on the table and his hand against his cheek, tracing the outlines of numbers he'd rather not read with his pencil. He knew he had to do his homework in order to maintain an image of normalcy, but the work felt so pointless. Why did it matter that x had to equal five if y was assumed to be equivalent to eight when it was entirely possible he could be murdered tomorrow?

He rushed through the problems with just enough effort applied to bother reaching conclusive, correct answers before his patience wore out. He wasted another twenty minutes scrolling through his music, generally trying to ignore where he was stuck waiting and the remaining assignments he had no desire to touch, let alone finish.

It was a relief when the ending bell rang. Sebastian hadn't gotten through all the review he'd intended to cover because of the questions, but this would need to do for today. "Please study on your own tonight and tomorrow for the test on Thursday. If you have further questions, you should stop by tomorrow before or after class," he reminded them all before they made it out the door.

"Sure thing, Mr. Michaelis," one of the girls told him with a smile while she walked out into the hallway. The other girl beside her turned to her friend. She giggled incessantly while covering her mouth with her hands in a useless attempt to hide her giddiness. Sebastian may not have noticed them if it wasn't for the fact that he could see Cian glance towards them for a moment, dispassionately and speechlessly disgusted.

Sebastian closed the door behind him and returned to his desk. Technically, he should have stayed at the school for another hour or so after the students left for the sake of general office-work and planning, but he'd attended to it during his lunch break. He wasted away a few extra moments by straightening up the desk, waiting for some distance to be placed between their departure and that of the kids who just left.

There was tension in the silence. Most of the time, he wouldn't have cared, but something about this situation and the stillness in the air didn't mix. Maybe he was so accustomed to having Ciel barking orders at him that to watch a person in his image listlessly staring off into vacant space didn't feel right. There had been a time when he was similar to this before, back when they had first formed the contract, but even then, Sebastian had exact reasons. He knew why Ciel behaved that way. Now, all he could do was speculate.

Once the desk was set in order, Sebastian walked between the rows of desks to the back of the classroom. He took Cian's bag from the floor, set it over his own shoulder, and extended a hand in assistance. "Good afternoon, Lovell. Would you wish to have a moment more to yourself, or are you ready to depart?"

The question caused Cian to snap back into reality. His eye darted away from the wall and locked onto Sebastian for just long enough to notice he was there. Cian ignored the hand that had been offered and passed it over to stand up on his own. It was his arm that was injured, not his leg, so he could handle walking just fine. He flicked his thumb across the screen of his iPod to change the song, stepped sideways, and approached the door from another direction.

In the absence of a direct reply, Sebastian had to take the actions as his answer. He opened the door for Cian to pass through, allowing both of them to leave the classroom to enter the equally abandoned hallways. Sebastian kept to Cian's side, matching the distance he was covering but not his pace, due to the difference in their strides.

The first attempt at sparking a conversation hadn't been very successful, having been a yes or no question. Sebastian decided to try again. If it was small talk, he wouldn't have bothered persisting, but there were instructions that he needed to receive. If they weren't being provided, he had to prompt them. "Do you have any preferences in what I prepare for dinner this evening?" he asked.

Cian didn't look at him, again. This problem of avoiding eye contact was a serious lapse in his etiquette, and there weren't any signs of it correcting itself in the immediate future. "I don't have a preference," he answered.

That was wrong. Sebastian knew it was wrong. Ciel was finicky about nearly everything, and it applied just as much to his food. He was much less picky about Sebastian's cooking as a whole, but still. "If I were to make a random dish, it is likely you would refuse to eat it."

"Well, I'm not hungry," Cian stated back.

"If you neglect to eat, you will make yourself ill. It is in your better interest." Sebastian meant to avoid pressuring or arguing Cian for a while, but the combination of this boy and his previous urges was making it impossible to do so. He was so accustomed to attending to Ciel that even if he could drop the 'young master' from his speech, the associations were the same, and allowing him to skip meals when he was already under stress wasn't a good idea. In a last-ditch attempt to receive some sort of a usable idea, he decided to ask something basic. "If nothing comes to mind immediately, do you have a favorite food?"

"Chocolate torte with ganache." It was an instant response from Cian. Unfortunately, it wasn't really the type of food Sebastian was looking for.

"Something a bit healthier, perhaps?"

"Peach pie."

"I was hoping for something you might be able to eat for dinner," Sebastian tried to clarify.

The meaning of this specification was entirely lost on Cian. "Peach pie has a nutritional value, and I'm entirely willing to eat that for dinner."

"I'm inclined to disagree," Sebastian said back, not going to concede on that point so easily. For lack of a suggestion, he decided to make a stew. It wouldn't take quite so much effort to eat if Cian truly wasn't feeling well. It also wouldn't require that much effort to make, which would give him adequate time to prepare a suitable dessert.

Cian had removed one side of his headphones from his ears, enabling him to hear more clearly. Sebastian noticed this and decided to take it as an opportunity. He'd heard through word of mouth about the subjectively unreasonable assignments that the other teachers had given. "While I attend to dinner, you can begin to work on your essay for Science. Am I correct to assume that you have not started it?"

If Cian had been drinking when Sebastian had asked that, he probably would have spit water across the room. His eye widened and his steps paused, giving the very distinct impression of an uncomfortably guilty party. He'd been trying to forget that essay existed. It faded out once Cian realized he was wearing his thoughts on his face, but that second of a reaction was all Sebastian needed to verify that Cian hadn't even begun an outline.

Sebastian put on a smile charming enough that it was practically shining. It was the type of smile which Cian was soon going to learn to associate with the worst of messages, showing up most predominantly when Sebastian knew he had the upper hand. "That essay will count for twenty percent of your grade this quarter. While I understand that you are not presently in the best of sorts, it would be irresponsible of you to neglect your studies," he advised.

For not being a teacher, Sebastian sure sounded like one from Cian's perspective. It was true that the first draft was due tomorrow, and if he put off writing it, that would make twice as much work when the second draft was due. Cian understood it, but that didn't make him any less annoyed to hear about that stupid project again.

Sebastian could see the lack of enthusiasm. It appeared that he was going to need to do some bartering in order to motivate the boy. Fortunately enough, he already had gotten a hint on what might be worth a try. "I shall make you a cake, if that is what you would like, but I will have to insist you do your work in exchange."

Upon hearing these words, Cian tried to force an effortless smile. This didn't work in his favor. The end result was closer to a grimace than a grin. Bribing him with chocolate cake was an underhanded tactic, and it wasn't changing how much he didn't want to do this. He was supposed to be the one with all the leeway, and here Sebastian was, trying to manipulate him instead. In theory, he could have just command Sebastian to make a cake if he wanted one and avoid the conditions so he didn't have to comply. Cian seriously considered the idea, and dismissed it. He knew it was in his better interest in the short-term to get this essay done. As pointless as it seemed, he couldn't let his average slip.

He would have found the task to be a lot easier if the project wasn't so stupid.

Immediately after his arrival at his home, Cian had parted ways with Sebastian. The paranormal housekeeper had dinner to attend to, and he had a piece of paper, his pc, and a report to create.

Cian sat down at the desk, turned on the monitor of the computer, and pulled out the keyboard to begin. The sheet of paper that was meant to outline the instructions and requirements was painfully abstract, ill-defined, and baffling. He raised a hand to his head and started twirling at his bangs, staring at the sheet of paper as if he expected the words to rearrange themselves to something that made sense.

Apparently, his ninth grade class was being told to compile a report about another planet as if it was a tourist destination. They had to give examples of what sort of life could inhabit it with the terrain and atmosphere being what they were, how transportation would be handled, along with more standard information about the length of a day, temperatures and weather. They were supposed to market their assigned world, along with made-up endorsements from celebrities who would have visited. His teacher must have thought this was a good idea, but Cian highly suspected that their mind must have decided to go vacationing on a planet far, far away to decide this was a good approach to making a research paper fun. This wasn't even a research paper anymore; it was a creative writing assignment with a few facts thrown in.

A few minutes of rifling through his textbook and the school-endorsed online encyclopedias gave him the information he needed. There was more than enough available information about Saturn to fulfill the set requirements outlined on the paper. He had no problem reciting the facts, but how in the world was he supposed to string them together in any remotely sensible way?

In his frustration, Cian had slipped out of the chair in front of the computer and started lying on the carpet instead. He held the page of guidelines above him and shook the page. The paper waved and crinkled, but it wasn't giving him any ideas for where to start. The longer he stared at these demands, the more tempted he was to refuse doing the project based on the principle of it. As tempting as cake was, and as much as he did understand the value of his average, it wasn't worth this agony. The only thing he really wanted out of this was the cake. It had been a while since he'd gotten to have a chocolate torte. If he could trade tasks with Sebastian, and make him write the essay, it would be much easier.

Actually, that didn't seem like it was such a bad idea.

Cian raised his foot and lowered it back down, pounding at the floor with enough force that the thuds carried downstairs. Sebastian heard the commotion, as did Eulalie. The cat scurried away from her perch, retreating towards the front room to get as far away from the loud noises as possible. Sebastian set the lid upon the crock pot, switched the dial to medium so the stew could cook in his absence and headed up the stairs to investigate the sudden clamor.

When Sebastian opened the door to find his young master lying on his back, sprawled out across the carpet, he wasn't certain what conclusion he was supposed to reach. At first glance, it looked as if Cian must have fallen in order to end up in that position. The expression he was wearing implied otherwise. He didn't appear to be shaken enough to have tripped. There was also nothing on the floor to have tripped over, he wouldn't have willingly flung himself at the floor, and he especially would not have ended up falling on his back, leading Sebastian to the conclusion that he must have been called up here intentionally.

The more commonly acceptable question in a situation such as this was to ask what he wanted. Sebastian would have, if it weren't for how sickly Cian appeared down there. He was just as flushed as he had been yesterday, and even his disgust appeared somehow languid. It was disconcerting. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked instead.

"Not particularly." Cian huffed in annoyance.

Sebastian entered the room and knelt down on the floor beside him. "I do not believe that is a particularly suitable place to rest. May I suggest you lie on the couch instead?" Sebastian extended a hand in Cian's direction. Cian blatantly ignored it. He sat upright, pressed off of the ground and stood up on his own. He tossed the grading rubric towards Sebastian as he marched out the door. Sebastian caught it before it fell.

"If my grades are of such high priority to you, then you write the essay on my behalf. I'll go make my own cake," Cian snipped. He tried to walk through the doorframe and brush by Sebastian. His try was interrupted.

Sebastian didn't want to let Cian avoid this. If he was ill, that would have been another situation, but if he was well enough to bake, he was well enough to do his own work for school. There was a very major difference between delegating and neglecting personal responsibilities. "If you do not write it yourself, then it will not sound like you to your instructors," Sebastian tried to forewarn.

It was a lovely idea in theory, but Cian didn't agree. He was far past the point of caring about the morality of it. It wasn't as if doing this one homework assignment was going to be the difference between him leaving a mark on society in a positive way or becoming a complete monster. This was just one essay, and it wasn't even a finalized one, it was just a rough draft.

"You think they pay that much attention? You're giving them far too much credit. Just write it." Cian didn't want to make the mistake of sticking around for long enough to let Sebastian make a counter-argument, so he nudged his way past Sebastian and left the hallway. He hopped down a step, then another, heading towards the kitchen, insisting to himself as he went that just because he couldn't cook didn't mean he couldn't bake. Sure, he'd always bought cake at the store, and he'd never tried to make it, but it didn't seem that difficult.

He made it about halfway down the staircase when he heard a door open unexpectedly. Cian started to raise an eyebrow, but he decided to think nothing of it. The noise was probably a fluke. This idea was dashed with the voice that followed. "I have done as you asked, and your essay is complete," Sebastian announced, sounding calm, composed, and completely serious.

Cian blinked, disbelieving. No matter what kind of freaky metaphysical demon spirit this guy was, it shouldn't have been possible to compose the entire essay in ten seconds. Even with the notes that Cian made, there was just no way to write that fast. A computer probably couldn't even process an adequately sized document if it had been _typed_ that fast.

Cian turned to look up the stairs and check that he wasn't hearing things. Sebastian smiled down towards him, with that faintly mischievous yet accommodating expression that seemed to be his default for emotions. They stood at opposite ends of the staircase, eyes locked, while they each attempted to read what the other was thinking. Apparently, they were playing mind games over avoiding homework. As a teacher, Sebastian was relatively certain this wasn't the ideal application of Cian's potential and intellect. However, this was a lot more fun.

"If you doubt the validity of my claim, you are welcome to come up here and make some revisions yourself," Sebastian offered. He was attempting to sound helpful, but Cian wasn't taking it that way. For him to have finished this quickly, Sebastian must have been up to something, and until he went into the study to see for himself, Cian wasn't going to find out what.

Frustrated, Cian trudged back up the stairs. "Alright, but you're coming with me," he demanded. He grabbed onto Sebastian's arm and pulled him along into the room along with him.

The monitor was aglow from across the room. Cian could see words on the page, which was a positive sign that this hadn't been some sort of elaborate trick. He approached more closely to investigate the words on the screen, and read over what Sebastian had written. Inwardly, he had a fear that it would have been written in archaic language, and would need to be edited heavily to remove all the 'thous' and 'thees' or whatever else may have snuck in that didn't belong. That was too easy. Sebastian hadn't done that.

Cian stared at the screen, completely perplexed. There was no possible way for him to make heads or tails of this paper. For all he knew, it could have been entirely flawless, if he lived in the Germany.

"You wrote my entire essay, in German?" Cian didn't bother to look at Sebastian. He was too busy staring at the screen, trying to figure out what would have possessed Sebastian to think that was a good idea, when Sebastian knew exactly why it had been. He wanted Cian to do the work himself, and that look of utter confusion and disbelief that turned the boy slightly blue was completely worth the effort.

"Actually, sir, that's Dutch," Sebastian took the utmost pleasure in making this correction. If Cian couldn't so much as tell what language it was, there was no way he could use it.

Cian debated the idea of running the document through Babel Fish in order to read the general idea. With a few clicks across the keyboard, he saved it to the computer just in case he became that desperate, crossed his arms and aimed a narrowed stare Sebastian's way. "This is horrible. Write something good," he tried to order.

"Good is subjective. If you understood the language, the essay would be flawless," Sebastian said back. If Cian wanted to teach Sebastian to do things Sebastian didn't want to do and slack off because of it, he'd learn to be careful about the way he structured his requests. There were a lot of behaviors Sebastian wouldn't be opposed to enabling, but laziness was not one of them.

"Then write the essay over in English," Cian specified, exasperated. "If I stood to gain from it, I would do the work myself. This isn't educational, it's a waste of time intended to keep students occupied and out of trouble. I _will_ edit it, so just arrange the information in a basic structure and make up enough nonsense about compiled cells and jet-pack skis to satisfy them. Have we come to an understanding?"

"Yes, entirely," Sebastian confirmed. The message was a compromise and an explanation, yet not once did Cian bother to say please or give alternatives. Even when he was providing his reasoning, he was unreasonable. It was almost humorous, and maybe endearing, to see that Ciel's regal mindset wasn't created by his noble upbringing. A sizable portion of his wealth and status had been taken away, and the boy still thought he owned too much of the world to be gracious.

Contented with the idea that Sebastian really would do what he had been asked, Cian pushed off of the desk and headed for the exit. He peeked over his shoulder to make sure Sebastian was doing what he was asked, and was reassured by the sight of him sitting in the chair with a blank document open. There weren't any words entered into said document yet, but Cian had spent long enough trying to find the right beginning that he wasn't going to critique over that.

Cian had been on the verge of expecting to hear the same announcement over again, but he reached the bottom step without interruption. That the essay had not appeared in a spontaneous manifestation was a good sign, or so Cian chose to believe. From what he could tell, it meant there was an effort being put forth, and it wasn't for the sake of irritating him. He couldn't be certain how long this would last for, but Cian was temporarily appeased by this moment of victory. It looked like he was getting what he wanted after all.

When Sebastian had left the kitchen, he had left it orderly and immaculate. The counters were clear, the cabinets shut, and any dishes he used were put away. The tantalizing scent of the stew simmering in the crock pot was strong enough that it hung on the air, lingering long after he walked into the range of the aroma. Cian couldn't help but pause for a few extra seconds, open the lid, and sniff what was inside. It should have been impossible for the mere smell of a meal to taste delicious, and yet, this was. He would probably be hungry enough to eat dinner.

Cian re-secured the lid over the slow cooker and brought his focus back. He already had a set task, and he was going to stick to it. In order to bake a cake, he would need supplies and a recipe. This was much easier to think than it was to accomplish. For one thing, Cian didn't really know what the difference was between a standard chocolate cake and a chocolate torte, and for another, he didn't know where to find the recipes. He was used to the kitchen, and he knew where everything was, but it was rare for him to make anything elaborate. There was enough instant food available that, as long as you weren't the type to burn cereal, it was simple to survive without any culinary skill to speak of. It had been years since he needed to find where the cookbook was stored.

Cian checked the doors of the lower cabinets. It wasn't there. He took out the pan, bowl blender, and ingredients he expected he would need eventually, and put them on the counter. It was good to have them, since that was progress, but it wasn't going to help unless he found the books. He knew the contents of the cabinets above the counters, so the next logical place was the cupboard over the stove. He stretched and reached up to grab the handle of the cabinet door. His fingers grazed the bottom edge of the door, far beneath the handle. Cian tried to nudge it open by prodding the bottom edge, and he lost his grip.

No matter how many times he tried, or if he was standing on his tiptoes when he stretched up, it didn't make a difference. He was too short to reach the door. If he didn't get it open, he couldn't tell if the cookbook was in there or not. A growl escaped him without his realizing. This was his house, that was his cabinet, and being horizontally challenged wouldn't stop him. If this approach wasn't working, he'd use another.

Cian grabbed a chair from the kitchen table, set it down in front of the stove, and stepped on top of it. With the boost in elevation, he was able to get in. Initially, a few phonebooks from years before were in the way. When he pushed them aside, he found exactly what he sought; both of his mother's cookbooks were stuffed away in the back. He took out the one that appeared to be in better condition, shut the door, and put the chair back where he'd found it beneath the table.

By making use of the index, Cian was able to find the torte without any trouble. If the recipe was correct, there was a major difference between a standard cake and this. There was very little flour in a torte cake; it was mainly comprised of eggs, butter, sugar, and in this case, melted chocolate and cocoa. It was going to take about an hour to cook, so it was in his better interest to get started as soon as possible. This wasn't the most conventional cake, but the instructions were in the book. As long as he had the directions, Cian was convinced that this wouldn't be that hard.

He didn't feel in the mood to change clothes, and he couldn't risk getting another uniform ruined, so Cian took off his sweater and his tie, and pulled out an apron. It had belonged to his grandmother, and it was as tattered, musty and frilly as one would expect it to be. It was supposed to be cream colored with mint-green ruffles, but one too many accidents with bleach had given it white streaks and polka-dots. He looked completely ridiculous, but at least he wouldn't need to worry about ruining this article of clothing. He couldn't make it much worse than it already was.

Cian checked the recipe over again for advice on where to start. It said to melt the chocolate and butter together in a small saucepan. He poured a bag of chocolate chips into some metal bowl that sure looked like a saucepan, and plopped in three quarter-cup sticks of butter on top of that. He placed it all on the stove and turned the dial for the burner onto a low setting. It struck him as being a waste of time to watch it melt, so he left the pan sitting with the cover off. In the meanwhile, he might as well measure out and combine the other ingredients.

The bag of granulated sugar was waiting on the counter. Cian unrolled the top and stuck the measuring cup in to take a random amount. It was too full when he first pulled it out, so he poured half of it back in, and that brought the level down to around a cup or so. He poured the sugar into the bowl, and took the carton from the other side of the room. He couldn't mix up anything remotely similar to dough if he didn't have wet ingredients to tie it together, so he needed to add the eggs next.

Cian gently tapped the egg on the side of the bowl and waited for it to break. It didn't snap open. He turned it around to the other side to check, and there wasn't even a crack. At first, he was pretty sure it was a fluke, so he tried again on the other side with added force. Yet again, there wasn't so much as an indent. He held the egg above him and examined it with a narrowed eye. It didn't reveal anything new.

"Aren't eggs supposed to be fragile? Maybe it's a dud." he mumbled in complaint, trying to figure out what he could have been doing wrong.

Conceding on the battle but not the fight, Cian put that particular egg back into the carton and took out another one. He smashed it into the side of the bowl with as much power as he had to put into it. This did have the intended result of cracking the egg open, but it worked a little too well. The entire egg had fallen into the sugar, fragments of shell and all. His expression plummeted and his face was tinted blue at the sight of it. He really hadn't meant for that to happen.

"Uh," he had to fix this somehow, and get the pieces out. If he didn't, he was going to end up with a crunchy cake.

Cian pulled out the bigger pieces of the shell with his hand and tossed them into the sink. He shook his hand off and ran it under water to get rid of the slimy feeling, and decided not to repeat that. To grab the little ones, he fished around through the egg whites with a fork. This was moderately successful. A few traces might have escaped, but he'd grabbed everything he was capable of seeing when the contents were white-on-yellow.

The next time he cracked an egg, he decided to do it over the sink in the measuring cup. He was no more successful at getting the shell not to fall with the egg, but he could control it better this way. Cian was just about done removing the last pieces when a new aroma filled the room, and it wasn't dinner. It wasn't appetizing whatsoever, so it had to be his fault.

He rushed over towards the stove and looked into the smoking pan of gloopy margarine bubbling over charred bits of chocolate. He rushed to re-secure the lid and turned the flame off from beneath it. "I suppose that's done cooking," he grumbled between bouts of coughing.

Unsure of what to do next, he leaned back over and peeked at the recipe. According to the directions, the next step was to add cocoa while the chocolate was still warm. The only measuring cup was full holding the eggs. He took the lid back off of the pot and tried to wave some of the smoke out. It floated into the kitchen, rising to the ceiling of the room and away.

With that distraction attended to, Cian tried to concentrate on mixing everything together. He'd made enough mistakes by now that he was determined to get this part right. A glimpse of a black blur passed through his peripheral vision. Cian didn't bother to look. He could guess who was there.

Sebastian had finished translating and adjusting the essay. It really had been a waste of time, but it had also been fairly simple. He checked the slow-cooker to make sure that nothing had gone wrong. He was satisfied to see that what he had made was progressing well. What his young master was making, however, qualified mostly as a mess.

Apparently, Cian was just as inept in the kitchen as before. It was a feat of sorts that Cian's attempt at cooking made a cake look even more unappetizing to him than usual. At this point in, Sebastian knew he could still salvage it, and it wasn't really a good idea to allow Cian to continue. His frustration wasn't much of a concern, but the idea of him eating something like that when he appeared so malnourished wouldn't be healthy.

"I have completed my portion of the assignment. If you would prefer, I can switch tasks with you," Sebastian offered as casually as possible. It wasn't a very strong attempt, admittedly, but he did try.

The offer itself wouldn't have been offensive, but Cian wasn't an idiot. The moment when he did look, Sebastian hadn't been smiling and his eyebrows were drooping. While it was possible Cian was taking this out of context, he was almost certain that look had to indicate strong disapproval. He returned the sentiment.

"We had a deal. I informed you I was making my own cake; you don't need to concern yourself with taking over," Cian said. He believed that he had finished successfully stirring the cocoa together, so he took the other bowl and started mixing the eggs and sugar.

"You appear overwhelmed. I thought you might want the opportunity to rest before dinner," Sebastian tried to clarify as inoffensively as possible. The offer seemed perfectly normal to Sebastian, but it was lost on Cian. It hardly seemed plausible to him. What sort of person needed to rest before they ate?

"In which case, appearances are deceptive. I'm fine," Cian stated with an irritated huff.

Sebastian didn't agree, but arguing wouldn't have had a point. It was vividly apparent that Cian wouldn't listen. "If you insist," Sebastian conceded. If Cian was completely determined to make himself ill, Sebastian couldn't stop him.

There was really no use in forcing unwanted help, so he stood by and observed, keeping his suggestions and commentary unspoken. He wasn't going to leave this soon. Thus far, no major disasters had taken place, aside from a possible offense against proper cuisine, and he wanted to maintain that.

If this was a larger kitchen, Sebastian's presence could have gone unnoticed. It wasn't. Space was cramped, and standing around to harmlessly watch took up floor space. Sebastian's attempt to stay out of the way was enough of a success that Cian wasn't running directly into him, but that didn't help when Cian could still tell he was observing. It was hard to work when someone else was hovering over his shoulder, watching closely and scrutinizing his every move. Sebastian may not have been saying anything, but he didn't need words to show it, or so Cian was thinking.

Cian was well aware that he wasn't good at this. He really didn't need to have some guy staring at his neck, just waiting for him to screw up. Cian didn't want to look back; he wanted to concentrate on baking. To take an active step towards that, he grabbed the blender, turned it on and started mixing the eggs and sugar together.

The more he tried to ignore the fact that Sebastian was there, the more attention he focused on him. The bowl was rattling, and the blender was making his hand shake as well. Cian thought he heard a thump behind him, so he finally peeked to see what was there. A quick evaluation revealed that there was nothing there. In all likelihood, the noise had come from the blender hitting the bowl the wrong way, but that wasn't really what mattered. Sebastian was smirking. Cian was far from amused.

Cian stopped the blender. He didn't look behind him, choosing to instead keep his expression hidden. They had never openly stated rules, but Cian was certain that being the first to fully lose his temper would mean his failure. "Stop watching me that way, this instant," he ordered, on the verge of losing his patience.

"To what are you referring?" Sebastian asked, feigning innocuousness.

"You know precisely what I mean," Cian tried to insist.

"I am afraid that I honestly do not," Sebastian told him.

"With that smug, schadenfreudian smile and your eyes staring down my neck. If you wish to take pleasure from my frustrations, I'd greatly prefer you do so from afar, where I don't need to deal with it!" he barked angrily, his volume stopping just short of a yell. The sound carried far enough into the surrounding rooms that it woke Eulalie up from her nap.

Sebastian approached beside Cian, and stood directly to his side, therefore eliminating the condition that he was watching him from behind. He took the discarded fork from beside the bowl, reached in, and grabbed out the remaining pieces of eggshell. "I assure you, that is not what I intended to do. I was merely awaiting the chance to be of assistance." He presented it with a more gracious, gentle smile, the type which could have charmed many who saw it.

"That's a load of crap and you know it. You can deceive others, but don't play such games with me," Cian stated, not believing a word Sebastian had to say for himself.

When Cian was so set on, for lack of a better term, demonizing him, there wasn't much that Sebastian could say to defend himself from the accusation. That it was partially correct didn't help matters. It was a mystery to him exactly how a smile could be distinctly judgmental, but there wasn't much he could claim when no answer was acceptable, not even silence. Words wouldn't suffice, and standing still didn't strike him as a good approach, so he stalled by starting to put away the supplies that had already been used in generally harmless silence.

Cian didn't see this as an acceptable solution. He wanted Sebastian to go away, but ordering him to get out of the room wasn't fast enough. To speed the process up, Cian tried to reach towards Sebastian and shove him out of the way.

The action itself was a success, and it accomplished exactly what it had been intended to do. Sebastian had been forced out of the way. However, there was an unforeseen side-effect. Sebastian had been preparing to place a bag of flour back into one of the top shelves when it had happened. He was able to catch the bag before it hit the ground, but not before it slipped and spilled, primarily over the top of Cian's head.

The air around them was clouded by a puff of white. Cian started sneezing and closed his eyes the moment it started to hit him. He tried to shake his head to get the feeling out of his hair, and sneezed again. There were worse sensations, but he couldn't feel his scalp, it was tickling his nose, and some of it may have gotten into his eye.

Sebastian didn't mind the flour that much. It had gotten onto his jacket and shirt, both of which he would have needed to wash regardless. Honestly, it was pretty funny for an incident of poor timing. What Sebastian did mind was that this turn of events would inevitably place Cian in an even worse mood. He was filthy, and if he didn't get cleaned up, he was going to track a white-tinted trail across the house.

Not going to waste the moment, Sebastian wet down a rag. He stood a few paces away from Cian, and stopped his hand five centimeters or so away from Cian's face. Sebastian couldn't tell exactly where he would have touched, because Cian had lowered his face so much that the angle was hiding most of his expression. "Please allow me to clean you up a bit, sir. I highly doubt that is comfortable," he suggested.

Cian couldn't make eye contact even if he wanted to. All this sneezing was causing him to keep his eye shut. "I can take care of it myself," he said solemnly and frigidly between bouts of sneezing, eliminating whatever emotions he could.

Sebastian was willing to take no for an answer when it was reasonable to refuse, but this struck him as being a bit over the top. There was no reason to be this unreasonable. It was going to be more trouble for both of them if they waited to let Cian handle it by himself. He erased any traces of a smile that may have been present in his expression, and knelt down towards Cian's height to level with him. "Capable of doing so as you may be, I would prefer to do it so you do not have to be troubled by it. At the very least, allow me to wipe the flour away from your eye," he offered.

The change in Sebastian's demeanor was effective at easing Cian's temper. Cian didn't speak, but he did nod his head, and that was confirmation enough that it was acceptable. Sebastian gently touched the damp rag to Cian's face. When that didn't elicit a negative reaction, he started to clean the flour away. While doing so, he had nudged at a string he hadn't seen, loosening the hold of an already poorly tied knot enough to make it the eye patch come undone.

The second that he noticed his mistake, Sebastian reached down to pick the eye patch up, and ran the rag across the other side of Cian's face in order to clean it off as well. He hadn't thought there was a valid reason for him to look at what had lied behind that patch. After all, Ciel's right eye had been sacrificed as a result of the contract. It wasn't entirely unreasonable to think that the seal had remained there. The momentary eye contact that he made while standing back up proved him wrong.

Cian's right eye was open. It was still in its socket, but it was severely out of focus and obviously blind. The surrounding skin, spanning roughly from the middle of his cheek to his eyebrow, was covered in burn scars. Slashes and dots of raised, bubbling skin in varying shades of pink and red severely disfigured that side of his face. It wasn't proper to stare and gawk, and Sebastian knew better than to do so. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what must have transpired before to leave this type of damage.

There was a lapse between when the patch fell off and when Cian figured out that it was gone. His right eye was permanently stuck open, but his left had been shut, and that was what mattered. His left eye opened when he felt Sebastian's hand reach through his hair, preparing to tie the knot. The unexpected contact jolted his eye open, and from the manner in which he was being surrounded, his understanding came instantaneously. Both of his hands pressed against the scar, attempting to conceal it as quickly as possible, but it was already too late to prevent Sebastian from seeing what he had.

Somehow, bickering about making a cake didn't seem all that important anymore.

Backing away wasn't possible when they were both standing towards the walls. Cian had to step to the side in order to move away. It didn't matter that Sebastian was a demon; no one was ever supposed to see that side of his face. His breathing grew heavier as he unsuccessfully tried to fend off the shock. He didn't want to believe this could have happened.

Sebastian didn't need to know what caused the initial trauma to tell that this was the start of a complete internal breakdown. "Lovell," he tried to call for his attention, to calm him down before it could get too out of hand.

Cian wasn't thinking straight. He didn't intend to speak, and he had been trying not to, but the second that Sebastian started to move and speak was all the encouragement he required. "Don't touch me," he ordered. It started off as a whisper that was trembling as much as he was, but once he proved that his voice functioned, it built up to a shout. "Don't… you... dare... come near me, leave me alone..!"

Protesting wouldn't have accomplished anything. Sebastian stood by, and held the eye-patch out towards Cian. It was the one thing he could do to be helpful without invading the boy's personal space.

Cian snatched the patch out of Sebastian's hand while he passed by. He rushed out of the room in an angry stomp, only pausing once to check over his shoulder and make sure that Sebastian wasn't following. When he was able to confirm that Sebastian was at an acceptable distance, Cian's scowl was indubitably livid. It darkened when he saw that Sebastian was still watching him. He hurried up the stairs, slamming the door to the bathroom behind him.

It was a command, and Sebastian would comply. He was certain it had been implied as a temporary instruction. While he stood by, observing the aftermath, it was followed by a sense of unease. Sebastian started to try and finish the cake. Surely, this was salvageable if he put forth the effort to fix it.

He did have confidence that this tension would pass, but he didn't enjoy standing on such unsteady ground. It should have been intriguing, to wonder what else this boy thought he was hiding, but that wasn't the first thing on his mind. He was starting over from scratch, faced with the task of breaking through and earning the trust of someone who already seemed jaded and broken.

What a shame that patience wasn't in his nature.


	7. Lucidity

Chapter VII: Lucidity

Warm water streamed out of the showerhead, washing away the grime that had compiled since morning. The sound of it rushing past was supposed to be soothing. Under most circumstances, it would have been. Right now, it was mostly white noise, drowning out whatever might have been happening in the rest of the house.

He wasn't sure how long he had spent standing here after he was already clean, waiting in vain for an epiphany he knew would never come. The minutes that had passed blurred together into a befuddled, incomprehensible mess. However long it had been, it must have been more than enough. With the twist of a handle, he turned the water off, reducing the flow to a trickle that would soon subside, and stepped out of the shower.

Cian dried himself off and put on his bathrobe. He ran a towel through his hair and wrapped it around his shoulders when he was done. He reached across the bathroom counter in search of his hair brush while keeping his head turned sideways, trying to prevent his eye from meeting the reflection imposed upon the foggy mirror. That he was thinking about how he couldn't look meant it was already on his mind. The instant that the surface was nearby, it drew him in like a siren. He couldn't help but to stare at the other side.

The images reflected upon its surface were distorted by the accumulated condensation, so the details weren't very distinct. This might have been appreciated if Cian wasn't already all too aware of what he would have seen. He ran the brush through his hair and the strands of his bangs forward, concealing the most pronounced aspects of the scar.

If his father didn't reside here, Cian would have taken this mirror down. He didn't have a grudge against the mirror itself, but he abhorred what it showed him, and he never stopped in time to prevent himself from catching these glimpses. Each time he looked at his face, he saw the scars, both the physical and the metaphorical, and he was never entirely certain which of the two had disfigured him more. The reminder was always there, but it was only when he looked that the memories he most wanted to forget were drawn back to the surface.

Entrancing as it was to view a disaster of this magnitude, he couldn't stand it any longer. It was getting annoying. He had to look down, away, in any other direction than straight ahead, so he wouldn't need to think about it.

He really should have dried his hair, but he wasn't in the mood. It felt better to leave the bathroom entirely, cross the hallway, and slam his bedroom door shut. If he was there, he could find solitude. That was as close to peace as he was able to reach. By this point, he'd stopped trying for anything more.

It was too early for Cian to be tired. If he tried to lie down and close his eyes at a time like this, he would start trying to contemplate everything that was happening around him, and he'd become overwhelmed. He had to channel the stress and the confliction somewhere else until it went away.

Out of the few available options, art worked best. Arguably, it was the only thing that had effect. By sitting down at his desk with his sketchbook, he was able to form a new image, rip it out of his head and set it onto the paper. He played music from the speakers of his computer as a way to fill the room with a noise other than silence, but he paid no mind to the lyrics or the melody. They didn't seem to matter when he was trying to convey the products of his imagination. Hours were able to pass him by, and if it wasn't for the digital clock at the bottom of the computer screen, he wouldn't have known they had even left.

Cian didn't stop until he had run through every image and recorded every detail that had come to mind other than that memory. He brushed off the eraser residue from the last page and stopped to admire his last sketch. The lines it was comprised of weren't the smoothest, but the image was distinct and both the front and back views appeared proportional. This would serve as the perfect guideline to his next project and a few of the ones to follow as well... of course, they were only going to matter if he managed to survive long enough to see them through.

He would have spent far longer staring in satisfaction with his work if the rhythm of the music wasn't interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. It was either the cat banging her head against the door to nudge it open or it was Sebastian. Since it hadn't repeated after the first two knocks, process of elimination made it unlikely that Eulalie would have done it. If it was her, she would have kept going until she got attention and was allowed inside.

Cian closed his sketchbook to hide what he had been working on, tucking it away among a variety of other reference books at the side of the desk. He stood up from his chair, walked across the room and opened the door towards him, expecting to see a person who wasn't there.

When he stared straight ahead, Cian's gaze fell on the wall ahead of him, and nothing else. He checked down towards his feet to see if it actually was Eulalie making that racket. No movement was made, no other sounds travelled on the air. There was something on the ground. It just happened to be inanimate.

A small dessert plate and a cup had been set onto the floor, supported by the surface of a silver serving tray. The contents of the teacup were still steaming and smelled of a spice he didn't quite recognize. A perfectly prepared and lavishly decorated piece of the salvaged and chilled chocolate torte had been placed onto the plate. A fork, napkin, and a small bowl of sugar also rest in the top corner. All it needed was vase filled with flower and it would have been suited for a room service delivery rather than someone's house.

He didn't need to take a bite in order to tell that the culinary prowess required to make something of this nature was something he could never match. The artistry was so exquisite that it nearly seemed a shame to eat it. He could also tell that the only shame worse than partaking in it was to allow it to go to waste. Cian brought the tray back into the study, shut the door behind him, and sat down at his desk with the tray to eat the peace offering.

The rest of the food he had been brought up to this point was exceptional, but this surpassed it by far. The richness wasn't completely overwhelming when it was paired with the tea. There was a contrast between the warmth of the drink and the cooled cake, and the texture was consistently smooth without lacking substance. He'd never tasted anything this delicious in his entire life. Cian didn't rush eating it one nibble of a forkful at a time, enjoying every second until there wasn't a single crumb left.

He didn't bother to leave the room again for a while. He didn't feel hungry, and the caffeine in the tea had given him a slight boost in energy. Between the two influences, he was able to gather enough motivation to edit and print out the essay for school. He prepared to organize his chore list as well, but stopped before he could begin when he realized how pointless that would have been. He no longer had to be responsible for that since Sebastian was there to do it for him.

The window looking into the room was no longer bringing any light inside. The sun had set long ago, and the computer clock verified that it was past eleven in the evening. Already that implied a maximum of seven hours of sleep before waking up for school, so if he wanted to get a full night of rest, he had better start as soon as possible. He shut the computer down, brought the dishes down to the kitchen, and immediately headed back up the stairs towards the bathroom to complete the routine of preparing to sleep.

Any other forms of life were nowhere in sight. Ordinarily, Cian could expect Eulalie to follow him, but she wasn't there. Her absence may have been connected to the other resident of the house not being nearby either, and also may not have been entirely her choice. It didn't sound that assuming to believe Sebastian might be trying to coerce her into playing or allowing him to pet her. It also didn't sound that absurd to think she would then run and hide under the furniture to avoid him.

Cian almost entered the room without giving it another thought. He had opened the door, and he was drowsy enough that sleeping was appealing, but he was hesitant to shut the door until he did one last thing.

"Sebastian, I'm going to sleep! Wake me by six-thirty!" he proclaimed, projecting his voice through the house strongly enough that it would carry down the stairs and hopefully reach Sebastian. With the command given, he closed the door without shutting it, leaving just enough space so Eulalie would be able to enter if she felt like it. On his way through the room, he unplugged the alarm clock- an action which he found to be highly satisfying. If he never had to hear an alarm again in his life, he would be content.

With that happy sentiment leaving him slightly less overwhelmed and troubled, though not by much, Cian curled up under the blankets of his bed and drifted off to a well-deserved sleep.

He wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten here, but everything around him was burning.

The rising smoke wasn't lifting away from the ground quite quick enough to completely avoid him inhaling it when he was standing up. Maybe he would have stood a better chance of not getting a mouthful and coughing every few moments if he was able to crawl around the ground to move. It had always been a safety rule, that since smoke lifted towards the ceiling, it was better to stay as close to the floor as possible. If he could, he would have. The part of him that was still lucid wanted to, but there was an impulse far too compelling for him to avoid imploring him not to. He wouldn't travel quickly enough if he crawled.

Cian couldn't tell where he was supposed to be. He had a suspicion that he was standing in front of the door to his room. The problem with verifying that was that he couldn't see the details through the thick of the smoke. Flames crept up the side of the walls at a rapid pace, leaving ashes in their wake. The inability to distinguish for certain forced him to trust in this instinct and assume it to be accurate

If he remained where he stood, it was almost inevitable that he would get taken too. The most logical course of action would be to retreat towards an exit as soon as possible. Already, he could feel his chest tightening from the impurity of the air. The temperature around him was rising steadily as well, resonating around him with warmth that hadn't actually burned him yet, but was coming dangerously close. He needed to leave. He knew that, but he just couldn't do it yet. Someone was still missing.

Cian ran down the hallway in the only available direction. He heard a crack, and forced himself to pause. The ceiling was unstable and beginning to collapse under its own weight. It was fortunate that he overheard the sound in time to react, or the portion that came crashing down to the floor would have fallen on him. Cian put his elbow over his mouth and coughed once more, breathing as shallowly as he could get away with. He waited for a few moments to prove that it wasn't going to keep falling, and when it didn't, he charged ahead down the stairs.

Because the smoke travelled up, it was easier to breathe on the lower floor. Cian removed his arm and tried to take in a deeper breath, preparing to shout. His attempt failed instantly, resulting in a stronger cough that hurt when it travelled through his throat. The sensation made him flinch. Still, he couldn't allow it to stop him. Before he could let himself leave, there was something he needed to find.

He called out a name. The sound of the form that the words had taken was muffled over, as if he wasn't supposed to hear what he'd said. From observation, he found it to be peculiar, but that didn't stop his legs from charging ahead through the house. He knew where the walls were without actively remembering it, and that allowed him to maneuver even in this rush of panic. His throat tried to close up with the next deep breath. He forced his mouth open anyway and called out the same names over again, desperate to find either of them. If he wanted them there, he knew they were supposed to come. They always had in the past, so why weren't they here now?

He chased the shadows through the hall, trying to avoid the growing flames. The obstructions were increasing at such a rate that it was starting to get trickier to maneuver, and he was running out of places to look for whatever it was that he was searching for. He found another corridor, ran down that one, and kept on shouting.

There was a door to his right. It was still accessible, and he hadn't looked inside here yet. Cian grabbed onto the doorknob to try and pry it open. The handle seared his hand upon contact, but by now, all the metal in the entire house was hot, so he assumed there was another cause and pulled the door open anyway.

It was another room, ravaged so thoroughly by the blaze that he couldn't distinguish any of the details. He could see a few intact frames that held ripped paintings which were charred past the point of recognition. Everything else was hidden between the contrast of the blindingly bright flames and the darkness that encompassed the rooms at nightfall. The heat had been developing at a much higher concentration behind the shut door, and it hit him like a wave, singing his cheeks.

The urge to break out in another coughing fit was rising. The only reason that he didn't was because his breath was stolen away with the image that he saw flitting through the shadows. With his voice robbed from him, it was the most he could do to stare. His mouth fell partially agape and his eyes widened in the fear that he had found something completely separate from what he had been searching for.

There was a figure within the fire, flitting across the room towards something else that he couldn't distinguish. All that Cian could see when he looked straight into the room was a haze of light and a blur. It was his heart and his mind which were having the response to it. The sight of what he failed to understand was enough to strike complete terror through him. His hand rest against the surface of the door frame while he tried to regain himself. Cian knew he had to move, that he had to run away, but he wasn't sure how he could when all he could do was to stare in complete disbelief at the worst fear he didn't understand.

Whoever was there, they were starting to grow closer. Cian's mind was trying to tell him to run, but his legs may as well have been disconnected from his brain with how well they were responding. The shadow disappeared, and the feeling started to disperse just a bit. He was still completely terrified, and he wanted to run in to try and fix what was happening. That wasn't sensible. If he didn't get out of here soon, it might happen to him too, and she wouldn't be happy with him if he did.

If he didn't get out of here, he was going to-

And then, his thoughts were cut off.

The shadow that he thought had vanished reappeared directly in front of him. It gave enough of a shock to him that it forced Cian to move away. Cian hadn't managed to take so much as a second step backwards when its hand reached towards his throat. He wanted to dodge, but he didn't have the time to respond. The hand thrust to give a crushing blow, and passed straight through him. Before he had the time to process, it was already gone in a wave of black smoke.

That wasn't as reassuring as it could have been. The touch created a chill even in this overwhelming heat, and it brought goose bumps to his arms. Cian tried to stop staring at the inside of the room, so he could get away. In a second or two, it may not have been a failure. He was trying to gather himself so he wouldn't break out in a panic, but it was just so hard that he couldn't do it right away. His throat was tightening, and the smoke was gathering in his lungs every second, weighing him down from the inside. He had to move.

Cian was about to raise his foot when a force pushed him backwards and onto the ground. For a second, he could feel someone else's hands squeezing him. He tried to open his mouth and scream one last time towards the room. It hadn't worked before, but in desperation, he wanted to believe that there was some possibility that maybe she could hear, and she'd wake up. Maybe she could come to get him, and this wouldn't be happening.

Or, maybe it was just over, simple as that.

"Mother!"

Cian shot upright in his bed, hands both pressing down against the surface of the mattress, clutching the sheet wrapped around it in an attempt to find something that could at least pass as security. He gasped for air, and began to pant when he figured out that it wasn't causing him unbearable pain to do so. He turned towards the clock to check the time only to see that the screen was blank. No light was shining through the curtains, leaving him with the impression that it was still night, but he couldn't know for certain. There was nothing to reference to see otherwise.

His pulse pounded in his ears, overlapping the white noise with ease. It left him with one lingering question. What in the world had just happened? It wasn't like him to talk in his sleep, and why would he have dreamed of a fire, of all things? None of this made sense. All he knew for certain was that he didn't feel safe while he was stuck in this house, alone.

Cian pushed up out of the bed and stumbled back against the dresser before he even knew he was attempting to flee. He stabilized himself against the counter and surveyed the room. It remained perfectly still.

Cian sighed in relief and annoyance. It was just a dream, he assured himself. Well, perhaps it was more accurate to state that it was a nightmare, but in either instance, it was obvious enough that the incident wouldn't have any sort of pull over him. It was completely fictitious, wasn't it?

Then, a shadow moved across the room. For a second, Cian swore he could see the same face behind the curtains over his window. The thoughts of reality completely fled from his mind. He paused for a few seconds more, bracing for whatever was to follow, and tried to rationalize himself out of leaving the room unless it was absolutely necessary. If it was as late as he suspected it was, running out ran the risk of alerting a man he really didn't want to run into-; his father. Besides, this was getting ridiculous. There was no reason to be this jumpy.

Cian took the few steps required to cross from one side of his room to another. He grabbed onto the curtains and shoved them aside, revealing the wall that stood behind it. The drapes billowed with a very slight breeze. In all likelihood, he must have been attempting to get some fresh air into the house and just forgot to close it in the midst of everything else that had happened.

It was crazy to be so fixated on a brief nightmare, but he knew he had felt the heat, known that the flames were inches away from licking his skin, and he couldn't allow himself to release the panic. Something about it struck him as too important to let it go. It felt like a warning from his subconscious about what was soon to come.

Cian grabbed onto the handle of the closet door. He slid it across to the other side, shoved his uniforms and formalwear to the left, and didn't bother to take a moment's look at the other articles of clothing that he'd sewn but never wore. He tossed outfit after outfit out of the closet and over the covers of his bed, paying no attention to how wrinkled they were going to become or how much noise he made.

This was the only thing he could think of to do, and he had to take action somehow. If he could clear the space, then maybe he'd be closer to protection. At this stage, he just wanted to have options, to be able to give some sort of direction and know for sure that he wasn't uselessly waiting around for the worst to come after him. He couldn't be that useless.

As previously instructed, Sebastian had been at rest and in hiding downstairs in the guest bedroom. From two floors beneath the boy's bedroom, the generated noise wasn't that loud. If it was mid-day, he'd have thought little of it. It was the timing that made it strange enough so that it was worth his attention. Unlike certain other people who resided here, he knew how to take a cue. Careful to be completely silent so as not to alert anyone else who might be home at the time, Sebastian followed the source of the noise up the stairs and into Cian's bedroom.

When Sebastian opened the door to look inside of the room, he was met with the scene of an enormous mess. A mound of clothing had compiled atop the bed. It spilled over the edges in enough places that it would have toppled over if it hadn't already begun to lean against the wall, and it continued to expand with each passing second as Cian dug further into the closet and tossed more aside.

Between the sound of panicked panting and the expression that had overcome Cian's face, it was readily apparent that he was experiencing an episode. The manner in which he was behaving was unmistakable enough that Sebastian knew he must have had a nightmare of previous trauma. This raised the question of what could possibly elicit this reaction in Cian, who shouldn't have possessed that memory. A few theories passed through Sebastian's mind, all of which he cast aside for the sake of practicality. There was something much more pressing to attend to than his own curiosity.

Sebastian entered the room quietly and with caution. He approached slowly so as not to cause any alarm. He hadn't intended to hide in the shadows, but the room was so dark that it concealed him anyway. As result of this, along with his preoccupation, Cian hadn't noticed his presence.

For another few seconds, Sebastian stood there, just watching the mess expand and waiting for a sign that it might stop. It never came. He couldn't let this continue without intervening, or it would take hours before it came anywhere close to stopping.

When Cian tried to throw the next jacket towards the bed, Sebastian raised his hand and caught it by the hood.

"Pardon me for intruding, sir. I could not help but to overhear. May I be of assistance to you?" he asked quietly, taking care not to smile or to overwhelm him in any way. Cian was distraught enough as it was. He didn't need a nudge into being startled.

Cian twisted his neck with a snap to see who had spoken. The clothing he had been about to toss slipped off of its hanger and fell to the floor. He didn't look. His eye widened while his mind began to process what Sebastian was trying to say. He tried, but there were no words. There wasn't a way to figure this out or reason through it. That was one of the problems.

"It's, not safe." Cian hadn't meant to speak, nor was he thinking about it. The overwhelming sense of urgency that he couldn't even place had overwhelmed him past the point of coherency. He stated to quiver, fighting against himself not to reach out towards the one source of possible security he had. He raised his hands to cover his expression, out of some slim possibility that he might be able to hide his panic. This failed to help, because his hands were trembling, too.

"It's not safe here, not outside, or with people, or alone," he spoke in a hush, the words muffled by his hands. "I can't be safe. There is no safe- not when it's me. Anywhere I can hide, they'll be able to hide as well, waiting for that single moment, and I-" he gasped for air, struggling to breathe through the weight of what followed.

Sebastian stood his ground a few feet away, awaiting the opportunity when it would be acceptable to approach without unintentionally escalating the problem. "You should calm yourself, sir. I am here," he tried to assure him.

Cian swallowed a mouthful of air and gathered the will to give the statement he least wanted to make. He pointed towards the closet door. "You have to stay in there. I have to be wary, but, I can't watch. That's a flaw. You have to do it for me, or they can use it as a weakness and it'll be exploited." For this being a frantic ramble, it was oddly logical and coherent.

Sebastian had no problems or hesitance about complying with a condition like this. "Of course, sir. Though it may be potentially questionable that you're requesting I reside in your closet, if that is what you wish, then that is what I shall do," he agreed.

Now that they had reached the point where it wouldn't provoke him, Sebastian placed a supportive hand on his young master's shoulder. The boy's skin felt warm in contrast to his own temperature, but by human standards, Cian was cold.

"If you do not rest now, you will be uncooperative in the morning. I shall stay by your side until you fall asleep once more." Sebastian was beginning to learn how best to handle this new incarnation, at least temporarily. By making statements instead of suggestions, he didn't present an option, therefore averting any opportunity for doubt. So long as he wasn't unreasonable, and he made it apparent that he was not merely mentioning a possibility out of obligation, it was as less of an imposition to accept.

Cian didn't speak. He simply nodded his head, and allowed himself to be lead across the room towards the partially cleared bed. He stood in place for a few moments as Sebastian cleared the pile of clothing off of the mattress and folded the pieces into a pile by the side of the bed. Once it was cleared, Sebastian took hold of his hand and guided him the rest of the way there.

Cian sat down on the side of the bed, and fell backwards the rest of the way across the mattress. He rolled over and huddled beneath the sheets, trying to find a sense of comfort he couldn't quite find. He shifted around, turned onto his side, and reached out to his bedside table. It was too quiet in here, and he couldn't relax, so he clicked the remote to turn on the TV.

Sebastian brought over an extra blanket and set it over the sheets. Cian didn't voice approval, but he pulled it up over his shoulders the moment that it reached the bed, which was acceptance enough.

It should have been enough of a gesture for Sebastian to kneel at Cian's bedside. That was what he had tended to do with Ciel in the past. Perhaps it was due to the reversion, or maybe it was because Cian was opting to watch the screen of the TV instead, and kneeling beside him would block his view, but for whatever the reason, it no longer felt sufficient.

While Cian was occupied watching over the flickering screen, Sebastian walked around the perimeter of the bed. He climbed over the footboard, sat down over the top of the covers at the end of the bed, and watched as Cian tried to lose his awareness of the world around them.

Cian noticed that the mattress sank slightly because of the additional weight. He chose not to move, just staring off at the television screen. By keeping his back turned, he thought he might be able to hide what was running through his head enough not to be read so easily that he might as well have been a child's storybook.

The act of turning away hadn't kept Sebastian from watching. He didn't need to see the boy's face in order to decipher his mannerisms. Sebastian could see all too clearly that his young master was shaken. He could also see that what he required the most was the same thing he would be stubborn and unwilling to ask for; reassurance and support.

Sebastian chose to be cautious about how to raise this topic. He questioned what name to use. 'Sir' seemed inappropriate for the moment, and a surname sounded too cold, but a given name sounded overly personal. Being cautious meant that he was hesitant to use any. One of them did suit his motives more than the others, though.

He turned towards the young master, to whisper into his ear. The movements were audible enough that it wouldn't be a sudden shock to hear a voice. "There isn't a need for you to fear anyone, Cian," Sebastian said in a hush. The muting of the words added to their effect, making them persuasively sultry.

The air of an exhaled breath that followed speaking ticked the outside of Cian's ear. It was for a single second in time, but the sensation and the sound made Cian freeze in place, his heart included. He hadn't been prepared to hear that voice speak his name. Nearly everyone else used a first name carelessly and by default, yet there was something significant and almost startling to hearing it from him. The television had been drowned out. Sebastian had his full attention.

Sebastian's hand settled atop Cian's head. He grazed his gloved fingers across the surface, brushing a few strands away from the boy's ear. "When others seek to hurt you, I shall destroy them every time. I will not allow anyone else to do you harm, regardless of who they may be. You have my vow," he promised. That privilege had always been reserved as Sebastian's reward, and he had no intention of ever allowing it to slip away again.

Each word was as lovely as the last, carefully placed and orchestrated. Cian thought he knew better than to fall for something like that. No matter how sweet they might sound, those words were contrived and artificial. That wasn't the type of promise which could be made in an absolute, and in all likelihood, Sebastian didn't mean it kindly.

"How can I allow myself to hold faith in you?" Cian asked back, being as plain and direct as possible.

For a moment, the question brought Sebastian to smile genuinely. The situation had begun to play so many times by now that this should have already been established. "While we are both at equal risk, how can you not?"

Cian didn't comment in return, because that comeback stated everything. It was true, more so than he would want to think, and it was stupid to ignore that there were consequences for Sebastian as well. The realization stunned him initially, but the shock subsided, and when it did, a significant amount of stress dispersed along with it. He didn't exactly feel calm, but even if there was no safety anymore, he felt saf_er_ for that moment. That was good enough for now.

Sebastian's smile faded out into a more subtle curve that better suited the mood. "I will wake you if you begin to appear as if you're having a nightmare. Just close your eyes and I will serve their purpose as well."

So, he did.


	8. Recreation

Chapter VIII: Recreation

Four hours later, and he was staring upwards at the bumpy surface of the ceiling overhead with nothing else to do and nowhere to move.

Sebastian had started off with every intention of moving into the closet once Cian fell asleep. He'd given his word that he would, and he'd had no intention of breaking that vow. It just so happened that he had not anticipated this particular result. In the process of tossing and turning throughout his shallow slumber,

Cian had managed to roll across the bed and partway onto Sebastian. His outstretched arm had flopped down, settling across Sebastian's chest, almost as if he intended to pin him in place. It may not have been Cian's intent, but it was certainly what he had accomplished. Unless he wanted to defeat the entire purpose and wake Cian from his slumber, Sebastian was stuck.

For the record, this circumstance was not for lack of trying on Sebastian's part. He had attempted to get away at one point by gradually shifting towards the edge of the bed. Cian had maintained the grip and rolled on along with him. It was too important that the boy got his rest when he could. Sebastian was aware of that, and he wasn't going to disturb it. Awareness of the circumstance didn't help to keep him occupied, though.

It was a short stretch of time to a person who was busy resting, but to a creature that merely feigned sleep when it was needed, the hours of the night stretched on in endless monogamy. The flickering images that ran across the muted television on the dresser beside the bed were of no interest to him, and the ceiling never changed. Out of every aspect around him, the only two which were worthy of notation were the clock and the young master.

When the clock struck six-thirty in the morning, the closest time to a designated milestone he could expect to reach, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. It would be a rush to prepare for school, but with the proper approach and preparations, he knew he could make up for the lost time.

Sebastian gradually leaned forward, adjusting his position until he could bend over to whisper into the ear that wasn't pressed against his torso. It was a simple statement, but he had been waiting for at least three of those four long hours to say it, so there was an increased amount of satisfaction held within them when he finally got to state it aloud. "Sir, it is morning. It's time for you to wake up."

Cian twitched in response to the noise, proving that he had heard it. He then proceeded to nestle further into the blankets, yawn, and collapse back down in a slightly adjusted position of resting on Sebastian. In no way was he intent on waking up.

Unable to allow this to continue, Sebastian stood up off of the bed, successfully taking out the support for Cian's head in the process. He pulled the curtains away from the window and tugged on the bottom of the shade, allowing light to pour into the room. It was a crude technique, but very effective.

Not about to let a little light stop him from sleeping, Cian attempted to adjust by pulling his comforter over his head to block it out. Sebastian put a quick end to this by pulling the covers away. Cian covered his eye with his elbow and rolled over to face the wall. Drowsiness was distracting enough that he didn't know much else aside from the facts that he was tired, he wanted to keep sleeping, and the light was getting in his way.

Now that the boy was awake enough to start rolling around this much, it meant that he wouldn't be overly startled. It was safe for Sebastian to set his hand on Cian's shoulder and give him a light shake. "If you do not get up soon, we may not make it to your first class. We are already running late as is," Sebastian tried to convince him.

Cian raised his other hand into the air. He sloppily waved it up and down, directing it towards where he thought Sebastian would have been standing. Noise escaped his mouth in a mumble, as if he had attempted to convey some sort of message or another. The words involved were so deeply encoded inside of a pained and discontented groan that they were past the point of comprehension. Sebastian shook his shoulder again, compelling Cian to repeat the message.

"Go away," Cian complained with enough enunciation that it could be understood the second time. "And, get rid of the light. I wanna sleep. It's not helping."

"That would be precisely the point. If you do not wake up now, we will not arrive promptly at school."

In retrospect, that probably wasn't the ideal specification to have made when he was trying to get Cian up. There was a very basic way to get around waking up when that was the issue, and Cian was not opposed to embracing it.

"I'm not going to school today," Cian stated, using what little authority he could muster when he was half asleep. He shifted to sit upright, increasing his reach enough that he could try and grab onto the blankets that Sebastian had taken away from him. He nearly grabbed them, too, but he didn't quite make it. Sebastian made certain to pull the top edge of the comforter over the edge of the footboard in time to prevent him from catching them.

"You may be able to regard your attendance as optional, but mine is not. If you stay behind, you remain here on your own, and I must advise against that. It would place you in unnecessary danger," Sebastian explained.

"Then don't leave. Call in sick- say you have a migraine or something. I'm not going."

The room was dim, and his eyesight blurry, disabling Cian's ability to read Sebastian's expression, but he didn't need that to know something that he could figure out with basic skills of observation. Cian squished a pillow over his head to block out the sounds of the counter-argument that he was so sure would follow. He was aware that he was being a brat, but if the means were effective, who was he not to use them?

Sebastian hadn't meant to get exasperated, but upon reaching the realization that the primary motivation here was sheer laziness, he couldn't quite help it. "You have managed to become quite the truant, haven't you?" He maintained his default, charming smile while speaking, unwilling to falter over something as easily remedied as this.

Sebastian set the blanket aside in order to grab the pillow. He gently tugged at it, administering just enough of his strength that he could get it away from Cian's ears while not accidentally tearing through it. When he could tell that there was enough space for the words to get through, he made his next attempt at being reasonable.

"If you make a habit out of this, it will rouse suspicion. If we are both absent simultaneously and on a regular basis, people will notice, and it shall raise questions," he advised. This was immediately countered by an annoyed groan. It wasn't a horrible suggestion, but it wasn't what Cian wanted to hear at a time such as this one.

"I don't plan on making this a habit," Cian stated with a sigh.

"Your previous record indicates otherwise."

"Well," Cian prepared to argue. He was ready to give a very impassioned yet sensible argument for why this would work when he realized he couldn't think of one. In lieu of referencing facts, Cian snatched the discarded blanket and curled right back up in bed. "Do whatever you want, so long as it involves closing the windows. I'm going back to sleep. If the home is infiltrated, that's your problem."

If Sebastian was able to do what he wanted, he would have dragged Cian out of bed and forced him to get ready. Unfortunately, that was not a viable option. There was really no avoiding that Cian had his way here. The potential repercussions ran abound, but if the boy's mind was set on it, Sebastian wasn't going to be able to stop him.

"As you wish," resigned to the fact that he had no way of overcoming Cian's stubbornness, Sebastian conceded. There wasn't much else he could accomplish by continuing to argue, so he may as well put an end to it while maintaining his outward composure.

If Cian was fully awake, he would have given Sebastian a funny look for that comment. As it were, he was too exhausted to bother, so he just kept pretending to sleep.

Sebastian set the pillow he had been holding back down upon the bed, stepped away from the bedside, and pulled the shade down to darken the room. He then proceeded towards the door to take his leave. There was plenty of work to be done, and from what he could tell, Cian was as secure here as he would have been in plain sight. He slowly twisted the doorknob, allowing it to open without too loud of a resulting click. He peeked back over his shoulder one last time on his way out. His smile gleamed at the sight. "Rest well, sir." And with that, he closed the door.

Once he was outside of the room, Sebastian left the upstairs hallway and headed towards the front entrance. He came to a stop beside the door, where he could receive the clearest signal without having to exit the home.

He reached towards his belt, and unclipped a device from its holster on the side. The term to refer to this by had slipped from his mind, but he knew how the portable telephone functioned, and that was what mattered. It was standard enough to own one that Sebastian had deemed it necessary to procure one to maintain an appearance of legitimacy. He hadn't intended to bother using it, but it wouldn't be the most brilliant move to call from a number that would have been on school records as belonging to a student's house, so it had its use here.

He called the school. After one or two rings, a secretary at the front desk picked up and greeted him. He spoke to the headmaster's assistant about the completely fictitious situation of his migraine and the resulting sleepless night. He went out of his way to apologize for how little notice he had provided, and attempted to excuse it with the explanation that he had held out to the last minute because he had thought he would be able to make it, but he hadn't improved as he had expected to. The assistant was sympathetic enough that she didn't bother to question a single word of what he had to say. Since the rough notes for his lesson plan were waiting on his desk, the school's designated substitute could cover for him easily enough.

With that problem attended to, Sebastian hung the phone up and looked around the empty house. Most of the plans he originally had for the day were gone. A reevaluation was in order.

It was a quarter after noon by the time that Cian emerged from his bedroom, wobbling ahead in a drowsy stupor. He was still in his pajamas, his hair disheveled from tossing and turning. When he heard the light creak of the bedroom door opening, Sebastian approached the stairs to see if there was any need for his assistance, and found that Cian had wandered into the bathroom before he had the opportunity to ask.

Lunch was set and waiting at the table by the time Cian arrived in the kitchen. It had been sitting for just long enough that it wouldn't burn the tongue of anyone who tried to eat it, but it also wasn't cold. It certainly didn't hurt that the plate had been kept covered by sitting beneath a metal bowl. Sebastian had improvised by using it to the same effect as he would have used a tray cover.

Cian had to pause and stare at the sight for at least a second. An old white tablecloth had been draped over the flimsy table. A clear plastic vase had been filled with pebbles from the garden and fresh-cut flowers. His home's cheap knockoff plates and glasses were being presented as if they belonged in a five-star restaurant, and the maître d' was guiding him to his seat. He blinked to make sure that he wasn't half asleep and still hallucinating. Was this intended to be some sort of joke?

Sebastian pulled out the seat at the table, and dipped his head down slightly, implying that he was presenting this genuinely. Cian was too stunned to comment. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. He sat down in the chair that he had been offered and allowed Sebastian to push the chair back in towards the table. At this point, he couldn't pinpoint the aroma exactly, but there was something wafting across the air that made his stomach churn in anticipation.

Sebastian picked the mixer bowl up off of the table, unveiling the small meal that lay beneath. "For lunch this afternoon, I've prepared a homemade stewed tomato and basil soup, and a grilled three-cheese sandwich," he announced in typical, borderline overblown fashion. Sebastian should have sounded ridiculous announcing food, especially food like that, but somehow, it didn't come across that way. Cian had growing reason to suspect that this man would have been capable of making a gourmet three-course dinner from the contents of a trash can.

Cian raised his hand over his mouth and swallowed a yawn while he looked down upon the contents of the plate. "I can see that," he stated flatly. No matter how exhausted he might be, or how many times his eyelid fluttered up and down while he tried to hold back a yawn, he was plenty able to make out the shapes in front of him and identify a sandwich as a sandwich.

Unwilling to waste any more time waiting, Cian raised the sandwich up and took a bite from the corner of the crust. Sebastian continued to stand beside him, observing to make sure that his efforts had been satisfactory. Cian switched between watching the sandwich, the soup, and the setup with a contemplative expression. There was something weighing on his mind.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" Sebastian asked.

Cian didn't bother to look up from the table. While the surroundings were admittedly over the top, he had no reason to be displeased about the meal when it was hands-down the best lunch he had ever tasted. "Yes." He raised his spoon and took a sip of soup. A smirk ran across his mouth for a few seconds as a comment came to mind. "You really had nothing else to do, didn't you?" he remarked.

"Did you expect otherwise, sir?" Sebastian retorted with the same type of question and a valid point. Assuming that they didn't want to watch television, read, or play video games, there wasn't much around here to do that would have entertained anyone, inhuman or otherwise.

Cian's thoughts began to drift away along with his gaze. He looked around the room, surveying the area with a caution he couldn't bring himself to shake. He could sense the gaze of other people, leaking in through the part between the curtains. It was making the skin on the back of his neck start to crawl. There could be someone else waiting just outside his door, watching to find vulnerability, scheming about his demise, and he might not realize until it was too late. While it was true that Sebastian was here to keep him safe, it was the least secure sort of safety that Cian had ever been given the displeasure of experiencing.

Cian twirled his spoon through the remaining puddle, causing ripples to form through the liquid. He watched it for a few seconds, and feigned a halfhearted interest in it by keeping his head in that direction. It was a way to distract from what he was truly trying to do. He placed his elbow on the table, leaned onto his free hand and looked towards the window. There, now he could see that there was no one outside. He was secure. There were shadows of limbs that showed through the curtains, but they belonged to trees. It should have been nothing to worry about.

He was a sitting duck if he stayed here. If there was danger in going to school, then there was danger in being in a location that students at school would expect of him. The student records included his address. It wouldn't even take thought to find him. Every passing second was another opportunity.

Before he knew he was even moving, Cian was absent-mindedly pulling on his hair. This predicament was beginning to feel more like paranoia every time it happened. Somewhere, somehow, he had to get his mind off of this before it drove him insane. It was that compulsion which compelled Cian to take a moment's pause from eating and make a basic demand.

"Take me somewhere fun."

There hadn't been much fluidity to the conversation to begin with, but even with that granted, this request had come out of the blue. It was sudden enough that it took a second for the meaning to sink in, and another before he thought of what to do.

Sebastian brought his eyes back to look towards Cian, and approached this in the most appropriate and accommodating way he could think of. "Did you have anywhere specific in mind?" he asked

"I'd been under the impression you were capable of guessing," Cian commented offhandedly in a pause between bites.

As a lone request, it sounded deceptively simple, but it wasn't that easily fulfilled. The idea of recreation tended to change over time, and it varied from person to person. The chatter in his classroom had provided him with a few passing impressions as to what people in this era considered recreational, but it wasn't enough to create a complete understanding of the current culture's idea of fun.

Sebastian continued to smile with false accommodation. Just because he had hardly any idea what he was going to do didn't mean that he had to show it. "I only wished to ascertain that there was not, so I would not disappoint you. If you do not state such things openly, I will not be aware of it," he suggested politely as a form of forewarning that, whatever were to happen, he couldn't be blamed,

"I don't care. If I'm not stuck sitting around as an easily traced target, that's satisfactory. It could matter less where we go, so long as it's not here."

"Very well, then."

Sebastian kept his distance from the table for a few moments longer, waiting to see that Cian had finished. When he did, Sebastian approached, reached over Cian's shoulder, removed the dishes from the table and brought them to the sink. He paused just before placing them inside. "Would you like any assistance getting ready, or may I entrust you to do so yourself?" he asked.

For a second, a blankly disbelieving expression had flashed across Cian's face as he grasped to figure out what that even meant. "Are you attempting to insult me?"

The reaction sure showed how drastically the times had changed. A while back, it would have been the insult to leave Ciel to dress himself. "That was far from my intention." Sebastian genuinely meant that. Cian he had a hunch that the inflection used wasn't entirely false and he wasn't certain whether or not he should think that made it worse.

"For future reference, I can handle that much on my own, so don't bother asking." Cian stood up from his chair. He headed towards the stairs back to his bedroom while Sebastian rolled up his sleeves and began to attend to the dishes.

Cian stopped walking when he reached the middle step. He grabbed onto the railing and peeked over his shoulder. At first glance, it looked like he had stopped to watch Sebastian, when his true intention was to check the window behind him. Again, no one was in sight. To distract from what he had done, Cian hastily made one last order. "Attend to whatever remains and be prepared to leave in fifteen minutes. I don't want to waste time. And find something to wear other than a suit. You're going to attract attention."

For a moment, Sebastian stopped scrubbing at the dirty pan he was in the middle of cleaning. He watched Cian trample up the stairs and duck back into his bedroom. "Understood," he murmured at the point which would have been a second too late to have been overheard. Then again, maybe he hadn't meant to be.

Most people would have regarded a long car ride as being the perfect time to hold a conversation. There weren't very many other activities to bother with when they were here. Cian preferred the alternatives.

Now that Cian was back to his senses, he was more irate than ever about the circumstances in question. He couldn't deny that he required Sebastian's services for the sake of protection, but trusting a tool on any other level was a horrible idea and he knew it. There was already enough natural charisma to Sebastian that the man practically radiated appeal. It was a dangerous and formidable trait that just served to further agitate him. The pawn could be useful and he wouldn't mind, but he didn't want to like him.

In order to hide his conflicted irritation, Cian had chosen to drown out his problems with music. He had the volume turned up so high that he was no longer capable of dwelling on the problem because he couldn't hold a steady thought. The music was so loud that Sebastian could hear it just as clearly as he would have if it was playing through the car's speakers. He chose not to comment.

Over an hour passed in this same scene, with Sebastian driving the car and Cian avoiding eye contact by any means possible. In that time, Cian had most likely given himself the same amount of hearing damage as he would have gotten at a concert, and he was starting to become a bit restless. He wouldn't allow himself to complain about it. That would have required him to speak.

He'd long since given up on finding any interest in the repetitive scenery passing him by. There were only so many times he could watch rock walls, trees, and quaint, worn down towns by the shore before they began to blend together in a single panoramic loop.

Because of this self-inflicted lack of awareness, it was an unexpected end when the car door he was leaning against was opened and he started to slide out the door, caught from falling by his seat belt pressing uncomfortably against his neck. His thumb ran across the dial of his iPod, turning the volume to mute when he fell. The silence that ensued cued Cian into a realization that he should have reached at least thirty seconds ago.

Sebastian had already parked, left his side of the car, and waited around for longer than he cared to. Opening the door for him had seemed like a way to forcibly remove Cian's mind from his internal fantasy world. Apparently, it had worked well.

Now that Sebastian could guarantee that Cian was not going to fall out of the car, he opened the door further and stepped aside to create a path. "We have arrived," he announced.

"I can see that," Cian mumbled. It would have been far more helpful if Sebastian decided to specify_ where_ they were. He sat back against his seat so he could comfortably unhook his seat belt, stood up, and stared at the scenery ahead.

Cian hadn't held any expectations of what he would see ahead of him when he left the car. Despite that, he was still a bit dumbfounded by what he had been presented with. They were standing in the middle of a parking lot with no openly defining features, so why had it mattered enough to warrant over an hour of driving to get there?

The asphalt was cracked and bumpy, and the black with white lines had faded into gray on grey. On each side of the plaza, there was a worn down building. One of them was made from red brick and paneling, and the other was a colorless, windowless block of a structure casted in what looked like cement. There were a few other cars in the parking lot, but all in all, this place appeared to be a run-down, abandoned plaza.

Cian shoved his iPod into the side pocket of his camel-brown trench coat to hide it from any unsavory characters in the area, turned his head towards Sebastian and stared at him through a narrowed eye. "You've taken me to a warehouse?" he asked with a combination of uncertainty and disgust.

This assumption was completely wrong, so much so that a partial, sly grin appeared on Sebastian's face when he heard the accusation. "No, sir, I assure you I have not. I've fulfilled your request. No one whom you know will come across us here," he began to explain.

"Yes, well, and neither will cell phone range, the past decade or a maintenance crew, from the looks of it," Cian remarked, interrupting him in order to comment.

"Fortunately enough, those things should not be necessary." Sebastian checked to make sure that the car was locked. The lights blinked when he pressed the lock key, proving that it was. He slipped the remote into his pocket. "I suggest you withhold your dissatisfaction until you know what you are speaking of. At least wait to evaluate the inside." Sebastian motioned his hand in the direction that they would need to travel, and began to walk there.

In spite of Cian's complaints, he wouldn't allow Sebastian to leave without him while they were in an unfamiliar location. He rushed forward in as casual of a running walk as possible to catch up to Sebastian's intentionally sluggish stroll. When he finally did reach Sebastian's side, the only recognition he was given was a few seconds of eye contact that lasted until he looked away.

They continued to proceed along the border of the brick building. As they neared the corner, a few more cars parked alongside the front of the building came into view. Sebastian continued to watch Cian when he knew Cian wouldn't check. They were almost at the front door, so it was probably a good time to add a hint of a further explanation. "These places have grown scarce over the years. After some searching, this was the closest one I could find. While it's not impressive by any means, I hope you will find it satisfactory once you're inside."

The mural painted across the front wall was impossible to overlook. Blindingly neon colors formed the image of a giant pair of roller skates, and a banner beneath them bore the name of the center. Cian had heard of these on occasion, but he had never seen the likes of this in his lifetime or his lifetime prior. (That was a fair guess, considering that roller skating didn't exist in the Victorian Era.) Still, the complete and total lack of subtlety in their advertising made it hard not to guess.

After a few seconds of watching Cian stare at the front display, Sebastian had a decent idea what the problem was. He approached Cian's side, and stood a few steps beside him, close enough that he was there without invading personal space. "Have you ever skated before, Lovell?" he asked.

The nauseated, slightly stunned expression that Cian was trying to gloss over with a stoic façade was all the confirmation he needed. It had to be a lack of experience that caused his doubt to double. Perhaps this was too unexpected.

"Do I appear to be from the nineteen seventies?" Cian replied without giving his answer much thought. While stalling for time, he moved his head down so he was watching the ground instead of the sign. After a few seconds of silence, he elaborated into an answer that was less vague. "Once or twice on an ice rink; never on roller blades," he admitted reluctantly. He also remembered falling down, repeatedly.

"Then, if you are not opposed to the idea and would not prefer to do something else, I can teach you. There will not be many people around, so there is no need to worry about hitting anyone," Sebastian offered, taking every effort to not come across as condescending. They were here for Cian's sake. Whatever he wanted to do was fine.

Cian was hesitant to look up, but he did. It was the first time the entire day that he had willingly initiated eye contact. It lasted for ten seconds or so before he snapped his head away and looked back towards the mural. There was a chance that this might not end up being the worst experience ever, and he had intended to go away from his norm. This qualified. Plus, he'd already wasted over an hour to get here, and he didn't have any better ideas.

"We're already here, so I suppose I can try it," Cian concluded, making a partial concession to himself in the process. He wasn't that eager to give it a shot, but it matched what he asked for, so he was willing to at least try before he dismissed it entirely.

"Right this way." Sebastian walked around the mural and found the handle of the painted wooden door along the wall that it blended into. He opened it for Cian and stood to the side, allowing him to pass through first. They had an entire day to waste away from the public eye. They might as well utilize it.


	9. Instability

Chapter IX: Instability

The front entrance was a far cry from impressive. The walls had been covered over in cheaply paneled wood and a splattered, worn out carpet was curling at its edges across the floor. A bored looking older woman sat behind a ticket counter at the far end of the room. She was paying so little mind that it was doubtful they would have been stopped if they tried to walk in without paying.

The thought crossed Cian's mind that it might not be the worst idea to take advantage of this fortuitous opportunity, but before he could voice it, Sebastian had already approached the counter to pay. She waved them inside and, without even the remotest indication of interest, waved them inside while returning to her book.

Sebastian opened the door inside, revealing what appeared to be a long, blank room. The view was limited, and he was supposed to keep an open mind, so Cian reserved his judgment until he made it the rest of the way inside. When he eventually did, it didn't create much of an improvement.

A disco ball hung from the center of the ceiling of the raised wooden platform, and a second string of running lights stretched along the surrounding railing, most likely for the purpose of disguising how barren the room was. Less than ten people were circling the rink, most of which were in pairs, and they didn't look especially lively. Music that Cian didn't know played from the surrounding speakers, overlapping but not overpowering the squeak of their footsteps across the rubber coated floor.

Sebastian walked around the outer side of the railings towards a rental counter, which had been conveniently designed to be operated from the opposite side of the admission counter. The same woman that he had already spoken to circled around, with the distinctly disgusted look about her that seemed to scream that she wanted to murder the next person who disturbed her reading. Cian took a seat on one of the nearby benches while Sebastian rented them each a pair of skates.

Soon enough, he returned with the skates in hand, and they both began to slip them on. Sebastian did so without any effort, finishing in almost the same instant in which he'd started to try. Cian lagged behind, tugging at the laces to make sure they were secure and generally wasting as much time as possible. He kept his head down in an attempt to be discreet while he observed the crowd passing by. At least half of the people out there didn't appear to have a clue what they were doing, and he had a sinking feeling that he was going to look just as idiotic as the fumbling, flailing strangers out there did. Perhaps this wasn't as good of an idea as he initially thought.

Regardless of Cian's best attempt to hide it, Sebastian was able to tell the delay had a cause that wasn't related to Cian's shoelaces. He leaned over Cian's shoulder and looked in the same direction as he was. "Bend your knees slightly while keeping your back straight. Point your toes outward. Step with one foot, allow yourself to glide, and guide with the opposite foot. If you need to stop, set one foot forward and press back on your heel to brake."

Cian heard everything, but he didn't look back up. Apparently, that one moment of non-condemning eye contact had been a fluke.

"I can lead you through a few laps, if you so desire," Sebastian offered in the least imposing way he could manage. He extended his hand into the center of Cian's current line of sight, and kept it stationary to see if it would or would not be taken.

Cian looked past Sebastian's hand, towards the other people fumbling and sliding across the floor, to observe them instead. The cheerful music overlapped with his thoughts, inhibiting his ability to reach a proper conclusion. Cian stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his sweater and stood up alone. Sebastian stepped to the side so as not to be run into and lowered his offered hand. Cian glimpsed in his direction as he passed by. Sebastian stared right back.

When Sebastian's knowing gaze fell upon him, he was filled with a sense of dread. It was as if Sebastian was able to see past him into the center of his being, to the point where he knew more about him than he knew himself. To make it worse, in a way, that was true. There may have been a pair of glasses in the way today, but no disguise would be sufficient at hiding such a distinctively piercing stare. This unnerved Cian more than he was willing to admit to himself, and his natural response to unease was irritation.

"I don't need your help for something like this. I'm not a child," he asserted curtly.

"Should you change your mind at any point, the offer shall still stand," Sebastian offered one last attempt at persuasion with a courteous smile. It wasn't a very impassioned suggestion, and he was well aware it was going to be rejected, but he couldn't be rightfully blamed for not trying later.

Cian didn't bother to snap back with a witty retort. He grabbed onto the handle of the gate into the rink, pulled it open, and stepped onto the slight curb between the rink and the outside floor. "Just shut up," he snapped.

He attempted to make a well-timed dramatic exit to join the other skaters on the rink. It was a shame that Cian had yet to realize how rarely his dramatic exits worked correctly.

The moment that he stepped out onto the smooth, wooden surface wasn't that bad. It was the second afterwards, when he let go of the wall and tried to stand straight up, when the wheels began to slip, causing him to tilt backwards onto his heels. In his partial panic, Cian tried to lean one back and keep the other straight to catch his brakes. When this didn't work, he flailed his arms and changed the direction he was leaning in. By some stroke of fortune, he was able to latch onto the side railing before he could crash.

Sebastian rolled to a smooth stop a few meters away from where Cian had paused, a trace of a smile still on his face. "Are you absolutely certain? It's no trouble to me to help you," he discreetly hid a taunt under the guise of politeness. He had meant to be helpful before, but the young master had insisted he would do this alone, so he had every justification to be amused. To an onlooker, it would have sounded nothing other than sweet. For Cian, it stung like pouring vodka against an open wound.

"I'm sure, so stop asking already," Cian grumbled, more than irate by now. A significant part of this frustration was with himself, but by no means would that keep him from taking it out on Sebastian when he had the option. He glared down the perfectly balanced demon as if he was his greatest enemy. "I've commissioned you to be a bodyguard, so stop acting like a nanny. If I needed one of those, I'd already have one."

"Am I not permitted to look after your well being?" Sebastian questioned, circling partway around Cian like the showoff he was, yet again managing to leave the meaning open to interpretation. At this point, it was possible that even he wasn't certain if he was more motivated by amusement or actual concern.

"When you're being sarcastic, no. When I decline an offer for help, that's what I mean. I don't need you doing everything on my behalf or guiding me every step of the way" Cian tried to push away from the wall to prove a point. He bent over and his stance started to slip. After a few stumbles, he grabbed right back onto the wall, and Sebastian was standing by watching. Cian's expression went flat.

"If you want to fall, then that is your prerogative," Sebastian agreed.

Cian was a moment away from asking if it appeared that he was trying to fall when he realized that was not a question he wanted to ask. He settled for sending a glower in Sebastian's general direction before continuing.

For the second time, Cian tried to push away from the wall. He maintained his balance for maybe a second before his feet started to slide out of position. That was the problem. After he started to move, Cian wasn't bothering to keep his feet in place, thereby allowing them to slide off in the same directions as the wheels did. His knees weren't bending properly when his legs were stretching too far apart. He started to feel gravity pulling back down on him, and started to flap his arms. He was trying to find the wall to catch himself. It looked more like he was trying to use wings to take off and fly.

It was impressive flailing, and enough of a show of a struggle that it notified the few other skaters that they would want to swerve away from the location of a soon to be disaster. Sebastian had the urge to grab on and correct the mistake. As per the requests he'd been given, he chose not to. The result, as expected, was for Cian to fall backwards, crash ungracefully onto his butt, and skid to a stop a few yards away from where he first landed.

Sebastian kept back the urge to offer a hand that would have been rejected, and kept restricted to observing instead of taking action. As he watched, his smile was lit with self-satisfaction. "In spite of your attempts, I do not believe that you shall catch your balance that way."

It was beginning to become notably less amusing to watch Cian's continued attempts, so Sebastian left Cian behind to circle the rink once and possibly lead through example. He could keep watch just as well from afar.

Cian pressed his hands against the ground for support, raised himself onto his knees, and switched to hold the side of the wall. By making use of the guard rail, he was able to get himself back onto his feet. He started to shake his head to knock his hair back into place and immediately began to slip off balance. In response, he held on tighter to the railing and tried to step forward. This time, the results weren't quite as bad. He was still sliding, but it was gradual enough that he was able to stop it. He waited a few moments until he was comfortable with how he was standing and let go of the guard rail.

Upon its release, he started to roll forward, as often happened to be the case with roller skates that had any form of momentum. Cian's tried to bend his left leg back and activate the brake to stop slipping while stretching his arms out to find a sense of balance. For a moment, it appeared that he had stopped without falling over. In relief, he started to let out a deep breath, move his arms, and ended up tilting right back towards the guard rail again. Well, that hadn't made very much progress.

Cian looked away from the railing just in time to see that Sebastian was rolling past him. In the time it had taken him to move a few yards, Sebastian had finished a lap. Sebastian had plenty of advantages, but nonetheless, it didn't help Cian's ego to see him rushing past as if this was as easy as walking across the living room floor.

"If I may, it might be of help to you if you stop using your arms needlessly," Sebastian suggested as he passed by.

"I didn't ask for your advice!" Cian yelled back towards him.

"My apologies; I thought it might be of value to you," Sebastian apologized somewhat insincerely.

Cian turned his head towards Sebastian and tried to shoot him another dirty look. He was abruptly disrupted when his feet started to turn along with his head, causing him to stumble and nearly fall over. If he wasn't keeping the guard rail at arm's length, he would have crashed straight onto his face.

As much as he was against following advice he'd been given when he had been asked to be left alone, it went along with what he had been told before, and he had no idea how else to improve. Either way, the day's events hadn't boosted his pride. Between the choice of humiliation in the form of conceding or humiliation in the form of wobbling around like a dizzy chicken, he might as well try the one that was less likely to make him sore.

Cian held onto the side of the railing while he waited for a few skaters to pass by. When he had an opening, he started to adjust his stance, shallowly bending his legs while keeping his chin level and back straight. At the start, it wasn't very comfortable, nor was it natural to stand this way. It frustrated him, but it didn't compel him to give up. Instead, it made him more determined to adjust how much he was bending his knees and where he was holding his feet until he knew that he had found his center of balance. Upon making this discovery, he released the railing, and began to slowly make his way around the outer edge of the rink.

Very little changed over the course of the hour, Sebastian observed. People came and departed. The music grew louder. A second employee, who could be recognized as such because of his work uniform, had taken a seat inside of a booth attached to the back wall and started watching the crowd. None of the changes would create a noteworthy threat. Each time a new person had entered, he watched them for a few seconds, and then returned to watching Cian. If there wasn't a specific outside threat to investigate, that was the most he could do.

The background music, which had been a constant up until then, abruptly stopped. The employee in the sound booth had interrupted the broadcast to put a tape into a cassette player. He slouched forward in his seat, wearing the type of sickened expression that said he would prefer to be anywhere else if he didn't need to be here. When the speakers were overridden with static, it became clear why.

"Hello, everyone! It's time to get ready to skate your best!" A fuzzy, pre-recorded voice enthusiastically proclaimed over the speakers with the sound quality to be expected from a cassette tape. "It's one in the afternoon, and that means it's time for our daily contest! Follow along with the instructions and go as fast as you can, because the winner will receive a fabulous prize! We'll be starting in just one minute, so make sure you're ready to take off!"

Not a bad suggestion. That was as much encouragement as Cian needed to mark this as the right moment to take a bathroom break. A statement that corny, outdated and positive never lead to anything he wanted to deal with.

Cian slid around the edge, skidded to stop, and stepped through the gate to the grooved rubber floor. Sebastian took this as a cue to leave as well. He followed closely after, arrived at the gate half a second later as if he'd been there the entire time, and was promptly stopped by an outstretched palm reaching over the gate to block him. Cian was reaching to the other side, and while it barely merited specification at this point, he didn't appear particularly enthused, and there was no presumable reason as to why.

"Stay here," Cian demanded, taking no measures to hide his impatience.

For a moment, Sebastian was inclined to think that he had offended Cian in some way that he _hadn't_ realized. A minute ago, the young master had almost been on the verge of a good mood, and now he was watching Sebastian with a stern and discouraging frown. Sebastian couldn't allow it to go unaddressed. "Do you happen to have a reason why you do not wish for me to accompany you?"

Cian pushed away from the railing and crossed his arms. He tapped his fingers against the fabric of his sleeve and looked away. "Circumstances notwithstanding, you don't need to monitor me every waking second. I'll be back in a minute, so what does it matter?" he stated in argument, trying to both defend himself and avert the subject as much as possible. Neither worked as intended.

"Yesterday, you implied otherwise. Was it not you who seemed to regard every waking moment as an opportunity?" Sebastian asked back.

"That was while I was asleep, and I _happen_ to prefer having some privacy when using the bathroom. So unless you've suddenly developed the need to use it as well, and I doubt you will have, stay here." To say the least of it, the idea of having Sebastian standing a few feet away from him, with no other purpose to be there other than observing, was embarrassing and cripplingly awkward. To say more of it, well, he greatly preferred not to think about that situation at all.

"In that case, return quickly," Sebastian urged as a way of saying a temporary farewell, while also providing a hint that, if Cian failed to return within the course of a few minutes, Sebastian might deem it necessary to look for him to make sure he hadn't gotten into any trouble.

With his back turned to the rink, Cian stopped beside a bench to untie the laces of his shoes. He removed them for the sake of keeping his stability when he walked into the bathroom. The floors around the rink were covered in mats, but the bathrooms floors would be tile, and thus, not exactly ideal to walk across when there were wheels attached to his feet.

Cian had no great need to stay in the restroom for any longer than was necessary. No matter how rare it was for him to find some privacy lately, it was a public restroom. No matter what attempts the janitorial staff here made, it smelled like something that needed no comparison because of the context, and puddles had formed on the floor from what he sincerely hoped was a leaky pipe from the faucet. Sebastian hadn't needed to give Cian any incentive to leave as soon as soon as he could. There was plenty of it here.

Cian washed his hands thoroughly at the sink, pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and swung the door open. He let go of the handle the second he was back on the other side and hastily tied his roller skates back on. He hadn't decided for certain if he was going to go back to skating or not, but either way, he was not walking across the floor while not wearing something over his feet for any longer than necessary.

When Cian looked up to evaluate the scene, he saw that chaos had not broken forth in his absence. The same people were stumbling around in circles, and Sebastian was still there, just as he was supposed to be, set amongst the crowd but never blending in among them well enough to be categorized with them.

Plenty of the people on the rink knew what they were doing, and they weren't going to fall, but their abilities paled so drastically when Sebastian was present. Each action he took was swift and without effort, unblemished in its ethereal perfection, to the point where it was nearly necessary for Cian to remind himself he was only watching a person on roller blades. It wasn't that impressive, and thinking otherwise was a critical misjudgment.

If Cian hadn't managed to snap himself out of his momentary trance, something else would have. In a way, it was astounding that Cian had managed to ignore it for as much as a second. The sight was rather eye-catching.

There was a giant red… _something_ perched on the top of Sebastian's head. It appeared to have the shape of a crown and was made from a combination of craft foam, glitter and faux fur. He wanted to ask how that must have gotten there, but he soon realized that it wasn't that hard of a question to answer. Cian had been gone for a while, and he'd ordered Sebastian to stay put, which included being inside the rink. That contest on the announcements must have ended by now, so perhaps that was the prize. It fit the vague description it had been given, if the word 'fabulous' was interpreted to mean 'ridiculous and shiny'.

Cian was developing reason to expect that the only time Sebastian failed at a task was when failure was the goal, so it made a certain amount of sense that he would 'win' without attempting to. The better question would have been to ask why he would choose to humiliate himself that way. The more time Cian spent staring, the worse it began to appear. While he was watching it, he couldn't bring himself to do anything else aside from staring.

Sebastian finished off his current lap around the rink, and stopped against the railing when he finally reached the point where Cian had stood waiting. He opened his mouth with the intention of asking a question and was cut off again, this time by an exhaustedly disgusted stare and someone else's problem.

"What is that object on your head supposed to be, and why are you wearing it?" Cian asked dryly while trying to determine for certain what was happening here.

"I believe that this shape is referred to as a crown, Lovell," Sebastian answered with the blatantly obvious and completely accurate statement that question deserved.

Cian failed to see the humor in this. "Yes, and you know what I meant. So why are you wearing it?"

Sebastian was entirely aware of how ridiculous it looked, but that wasn't a good enough reason to be a bad sport about it while he was in public. "It was a reward from the establishment's proprietor," he replied with an unflinching coolness that only he could pull off when wearing an object that shed sparkles like dandruff.

"It looks as if it could swallow my head." It was also doing an admirable job at swallowing Sebastian's.

"It would be discourteous to refuse it outright, but if it bothers you, I can remove it." Sebastian didn't really want to be wearing it to begin with. He planned to remove it around the same time as when they left. He wouldn't mind the excuse to get rid of it sooner, though.

"Don't concern yourself. I was just wondering. Feel free to continue," Cian dismissed.

Cian stepped around the edge of the railing, holding on loosely enough that it helped him balance without slowing him down. He proceeded towards the entrance gate, stepped over the edge, and collided with the ground. His foot started to slip when he first hit the surface, but he held his grip for an extra moment before letting go, which allowed him to find his center of balance and not crash to the ground. From there, it was just a matter of repeating a pattern and not smashing into any oncoming traffic. Since everyone was skating in the same direction, he could manage that without too much concentration expended.

Sebastian took that as a sign that they were going to stay for a while longer. He had been given no other directions, so he followed after Cian and stayed closely behind him to make sure nothing would go awry. Cian noticed the sound of someone else nearby, and checked. When he confirmed that it was Sebastian, he slowed down and allowed Sebastian to reach his side. If Sebastian was going to follow him regardless, they might as well both be in each others' sight.

Sebastian was watching over Cian intently and purposefully. Cian didn't mean to do the same. He took an occasional glance towards Sebastian when he thought Sebastian wouldn't be watching, and started to smirk. Deciding to indulge this for a while, Sebastian turned his head only at the points when he knew Cian was watching. In doing so, he had completely fooled the boy into the belief that he was getting away with his staring unnoticed.

The third time that Cian tried to sneak a look for amusement's sake, Sebastian hadn't bothered to turn away. Their eyes met, and Sebastian smiled graciously. The underlying slyness didn't need to be visible to be expressed when the understanding was instantly mutual.

"Is there something amiss? You have been staring at me intently for quite some while," Sebastian stated, upholding that smile with just enough intensity that it would be taken innocuously unless the recipient had a reason to react.

"I couldn't help it. That hat suits you so well," Cian remarked back, as dryly as ever.

Sebastian took the hat off. The edges of the fur tried to pull at his hair with static electricity as if it was trying to latch back onto Sebastian. It only let go when it was outstretched a full arm's length away from Sebastian. It was a relief not to have that itching sensation anymore. While he held the crown out, Sebastian slanted the direction he was skating in so he was directly beside Cian. "If you admire it so much, perhaps you would like to wear it?" he offered.

"But it accentuates your eyes so well," Cian stated, mindlessly continuing the exchange. He turned his head towards the side for courtesy's sake, and saw what Sebastian had planned. He fumbled to take a longer stride and sped up instantly.

Sebastian had been an inch away from setting the poorly crafted crown on Cian's head. What Cian failed to notice was that Sebastian had been that inch away for at least ten seconds before then. Sebastian followed along with Cian, maintaining perfect form and matching the pace without really trying.

"Don't you dare!" Cian demanded in as much of a shout as he could use in a public setting without attracting unwanted attention. He raised a hand towards the side of his head to swat away the crown. It wasn't a baseless guess to anticipate that it would have been there. It also wasn't right. Cian missed three consecutive times by swatting into thin air, and Sebastian continued to skate at the same pace, passing by Cian in the process of it. He turned on his back foot and pivoted, reversing his movements so he would be able to skate backwards. For now, he was still holding the crown. In spite of the moment's delay in spotting him, it was impossible for Cian not to notice.

"What I earn belongs to you. Who am I to take away something that you would appreciate?" Sebastian asked, watching and enjoying every second of this.

Cian started to slow down, enough so that he could stare down Sebastian with a slightly sour and potentially vindictive scowl. "If you so much as try to put that thing on my head, I swear I'll-"

Mid-thought, everything around him stopped. Bumps rose on his arms. A chill ran through his blood. Everything around him was gone.

To be more accurate, his surroundings fell out of focus. The scenery around him was moving, but he was no longer paying attention to it, causing it to turn into nothing more than a blur. He couldn't help it. There was a draw towards a point in the room, something that was so unnatural that it strained his mind to process that he could see it.

There was a shadowed figure standing outside of the rink. It was the silhouette of a person, a solid shadow with no face or defined features, waiting on the other side with a hand raised flat against a wall that wasn't there. There were no eyes on its face, but its head was turned in his direction and it had a paralyzing vibe. For an amount of time that seemed frozen and undeterminable, Cian stared towards it, his heart racing and his breath freezing halfway up his throat.

Then, without any outward warning of a change, a mouth appeared on the creature's otherwise blank face. It quickly spread into a smile. It continued to extend upwards, far past the natural extent of a human's mouth, until it curved across its face spread literally from one ear to another.

His sight pulsed out, causing the entire room to spin. His head pounded as if his brain was repeatedly colliding with his skull. The pressure was enough to make him gasp for air and start to choke instead. Cian tried to maintain eye contact to determine what could possibly be happening to create this result. As he watched, the image began to flicker in and out similarly to a television getting poor reception. The static extended to the area around it. The effect was powerfully nauseating, enough so that he sensed the ground slide beneath his feet while gravity pull down on his entire body until his surroundings were engulfed in that same pitch black.

In actuality, Cian hadn't moved. Both of his feet had settled against the ground, causing him to gradually roll to a natural stop, his eye still open and transfixed on vacant space.

Prepared to receive his cue as he always was, Sebastian stepped to break and twisted to an immediate stop beside Cian. When there was no immediate sign of response, he set a supportive hand an inch away from his back, in case Cian were to start falling. This didn't happen. Every apparent motion had come to a halt, even the open signs of his breathing.

"Lovell? Are you feeling unwell?" Sebastian spoke into Cian's ear to try and get his attention. Yet again, there was no outward sign that he could hear that he was being spoken to. It was best to be distantly gentle with this boy, but provided the circumstances, kindness was not the priority. When the simpler approach proved insufficient, he had no choice but to be abrupt.

Sebastian reached out and pulled on Cian's arm, twisting him to face in the other direction while also pulling him across the floor. It was a sudden jerk of a movement that caused Cian to start falling in reality as well. Sebastian invoked the effect on purpose, and waited until Cian was at least halfway towards the ground before reaching around his waist and lifting him enough to catch him.

As anticipated, Cian blinked when he felt gravity pull at him. The color returned to his surroundings in time for him to see the floor approaching. His expression remained roughly the same as it had been, with one change. The tint on his face had turned from the flushed white to a warm pink; which he would be better off not realizing was there when there were far more consuming matters to worry about than the hand uncomfortably pressed on his waist.

"You mustn't push yourself, or you truly will become bedridden. If you are feeling ill, it is best if we return home," Sebastian said at a normal conversational volume. He lifted Cian up the rest of the way to his feet until he was standing, but didn't release him that soon.

Cian was reluctant to speak, and close to unable. The constant pounding in his head was so disorienting that in those first few moments, he couldn't keep enough words strung together to form an explanation. It had hit him so suddenly that it seemed like a mental assault from that creature. He twisted his head over his shoulder, to peak towards the point where it had been standing until Sebastian decided to shove him. "But, Sebastian," he began to say, before he lost track of what he had intended to say.

There was nothing there.

In the time that he had been standing there, had it left? That stare had lasted for maybe a minute in his mind, but the perceived flow of time never matched its pace. He couldn't tell how long he had been standing there, or how long of a gap there was between what he had seen last while in that daze and what he was seeing now.

In order to leave, they couldn't keep standing here, and it was impractical to try and carry Cian this way. Sebastian let go of him, and skated a step ahead with an arm extended. If Cian needed support, it was open for him to take if he chose to. "As pleased as I am that you were satisfied enough to want to stay, I have to insist." Sebastian said this as a way to express concern and persuade Cian.

Its significance to Cian stemmed from something else entirely. Sebastian had completely missed the point. This was proving to be a common problem between them, but in this case, the reason wasn't the same. For Sebastian to be oblivious to the figure that had been there meant that nothing _had_ been; not that anyone else could see.

It was becoming more and more difficult for him to confidently attest to his sanity when he was seeing specters that the demon couldn't. In all likelihood, it was probably just some person, the start of a migraine, and some added paranoia. What could have possibly been there that would evade Sebastian's notice if it wasn't in his imagination? In any case, it was gone, and he had no way to explain it without coming across as a complete lunatic. He swallowed his attempts to create a convincing, truthful story and decided it best not to bother. If it was a demon, it would come back, and if his mind was playing a trick, covering it up would be the same as erasing that it had happened. As long as he was able to improvise, he could work around it.

"But, I'm hungry," Cian finished the earlier statement in the first way that came to mind. "I want dessert, ice cream." The moment he used it, he wanted to regret it. Nothing would have been able to sound appetizing right now. He would have wished he said something else if it hadn't worked.

"We can locate a parlor on our way," Sebastian conceded in exasperation, for once missing the fact that he was being lied to because the demand was so typical.

"Alright," Cian agreed. In this situation, he would have agreed to most anything if it meant no extra questions.

Sebastian prepared to leave upon reaching the nearest exit. He looked behind him to make sure that Cian would do the same, and instead saw that Cian had fallen behind due to what appeared to be exhaustion. By the time Cian stepped out of the rink to join Sebastian, he was on the verge of collapsing. He began to trudge past Sebastian towards the rental counter. Sebastian intervened by crossing into his path and motioning towards a bench at the sidelines.

"Please, sit down, and allow me to assist. There is no reason for us both to wait," he offered. Lately, 'allow me to assist' or any similar combination of those words seemed to be code for 'I'm going to help you. If you don't want it, just try to stop me and see how well that works'. It was possible to overpower it, but it wasn't easily done and it took effort that they both knew Cian didn't have left in him.

Cian sat down on the bench, untied the laces, and pulled off his skates in such a rush that Sebastian had hardly finished removing his own by the time Cian's pair was offered over to him. "Here," Cian called attention to them, impatiently accentuating the rush he was in.

Sebastian grabbed the skates away from Cian when they were offered. "I shall return in a moment." He would have mentioned to wait patiently, but clearly, that had already become impossible.

After a ring of the bell at the front counter and a quick exchange of greetings, Sebastian turned in the rentals for the shoes that they had arrived in. He put on his own, and brought Cian's pair over to put them on next. While he waited, Cian had his hand pressed against the side of his head, presumably to try and detract from what was becoming a debilitating headache.

Sebastian tentatively thought that this would have been the correct time to place Cian's shoes on his feet for him. Strangely enough, he wasn't mistaken. Cian glanced at him for a moment, but otherwise allowed him to continue without creating a fuss. It was a pleasant surprise, and indicated that Cian's condition had to be far worse than he was allowing it to appear. He finished tying the top knot on Cian's boot, and referred back to Cian's expression to check how he was fairing. It hadn't improved any.

"This may not be the appropriate time, but may I ask what's ailing you? I could better accommodate for you if I knew of the source of the problem," Sebastian asked.

Cian was aware enough of his temper and how his headache was influencing it that he sighed before he spoke to relieve it. "What does that matter? You've already done what you can," he stared off towards the wall and avoided giving a straight answer.

Sebastian hurried, but didn't rush, while he tied the laces on the other boot to accommodate for the unexplained urgency. He pulled at the laces to ensure that they were taut and looped them into a bow. "How can you be certain of that if you do not inform me of what is bothering you?" he inquired. There was no answer.

When Sebastian finished, Cian immediately rose from his seat on the bench. He kept his head faced towards the floor while he cut past Sebastian to reach the exit. He pressed his hand against the door, bracing to open it. Maybe, if this portion of his day came to a close, he would be able to block the incident from his thoughts. For all he knew, this was a one-time hallucination, he merely required rest, and he would never need to think about this again.

The more he tried to claim that, the less likely it sounded. He wouldn't be able to shun this problem so easily. Somehow, somewhere, it was going to return. Understanding that didn't change his mind. He would reevaluate and deal with it when it showed up again. For now, he just wanted quiet.

"I can reach my own conclusions, Sebastian. And there are a lot of things I prefer to leave unspoken."

With that, he pushed the door open and walked away in complete silence, heading towards a destination he could no longer recognize while faking the confidence that tried to claim he did.

"I assure you that will not be a problem," Sebastian affirmed. Saying too much was far from a concern between the two of them. If there was one thing they both excelled at, it was leaving their thoughts unspoken.


	10. Monotony

Chapter X: Monotony

For the record, spending hours upon hours waiting around in a closet was not a particularly exciting or enjoyable way to spend an entire night. It was his duty, so Sebastian wouldn't utter a single complaint openly. It was a good thing that he found these two to be so endearing while they were at their most vulnerable, or he might have lost the sense of why that task was supposed to matter in the first place.

The clouds in the sky had cleared, making way for an early sunrise. The evening had passed without disruption, which was a particularly good thing, considering how ill the young master consistently seemed to be. There was a chance that, perhaps, he would be in a better mood after having a full night's rest for once. It was a very slim chance, admittedly, but a chance nonetheless, and Sebastian found it hard to imagine that being well-rested would make him _more_ temperamental.

The bedroom began to rumble with the sound of the garage door opening and shutting. The man whom he needed to avoid was no longer in the home, giving him his cue to attend to his morning responsibilities.

Sebastian slowly slid the closet door open and stepped across the room. He checked the locks on the windows to assure that nobody would be able to enter without alarming him somehow, and left the room. He needed to prepare breakfast, put away the laundry, clean any unfortunate spills that the owner managed to leave behind, and check his suitcase and phone for any messages from his secondary job. None of the tasks were particularly engaging, but they made him busy, and he completed them with the same attentiveness that he applied to everything else.

In his absence, the projected appearance of normalcy began to drop. The indications were subtle, enough so for a person who saw the twitch to write it off as being a mere coincidence. Even in his sleep, Cian was hesitant to make it apparent when he was distraught when Sebastian was around. As was typical, his mind was locked into another nightmare, just as vividly realistic as the ones before it. His breathing started to stagger as he turned over onto his side, and his hand clutched the sheet with a grip so tight it turned his knuckles white.

He was standing in a room with no door. The walls were painted in a stark, mid-tone gray. There were no sounds or signs of life, only silence. He took a step towards one of the walls to check for any signs of an exit. A quick glance around the area and he noticed there was a slim crack through one of the walls. Hopeful he may have found what he sought, he approached the wall. He extended his hand and reached to graze against the edge of the line.

Before his finger had the chance to touch the wall, there was a flicker of distortion in the right back corner. He twisted his head around, and immediately came to the realization that it was nothing but a shadow. That failed to diffuse the tension. Cian continued to stare behind him, watching with the utmost suspicion that something would go wrong. He slowly retracted his previous steps, retreating to the opposite side of the room, never looking away from that one spot. He placed one hand out behind him as he walked, so he could recognize when he reached the other side without breaking eye contact.

It wasn't long before his hand grazed against dew that had settled on the wall. Startled by the unexpected sensation, Cian pulled his hand back towards him and looked down at his hand. The surface of his fingertips was coated with a thin layer of blood. The walls hadn't appeared to be wet ten seconds ago. By that logic, the only way anything could have possibly entered the room without his notice and fall from that direction had to be up.

Cian turned his head towards the ceiling to find the source. He had braced himself for the sight of a person, living or dead. That wasn't it. This made less sense than a murderer hunting him down or their prey hanging overhead. There were symbols he couldn't read painted in fresh blood across the mirror on the ceiling. At first glance, the letters appeared to be incomprehensible, but they were obviously letters of some sort. Instead of attempting to read it from the ceiling, he turned his head back down towards the floor. There was one place in this room where he hadn't bothered to look yet.

There was a mirror on the floor, and it reflected the same symbols set on the ceiling, with a few minor distortions from small puddles of blood and his feet. From the direction he was standing in, the text was tilted sideways, still incomprehensible. Cian tilted his head to find a better angle while he walked around the border of the room. As he approached the proper direction, the combinations of letters became increasingly more legible. Whether or not the words made any sense was a separate matter entirely.

A quick survey of his reflection in the kitchen window confirmed that Sebastian was presentable. Considering the fact that he had gotten dressed while waiting inside of the closet earlier in the day, the impeccably tailored black suit and tie he was wearing appeared professional enough. He rearranged the placement of the items on the tray he had found until they were properly balanced, and referenced the clock on the opposite side of the room. Waiting any longer would place a strain upon the schedule. The young master hadn't woken up on his own, so he would need to wake him up instead.

As Cian read across the phrase scrawled across the ceiling, the words started to slip from his mouth without specific effort towards it. He couldn't understand why he felt the need to speak them; they crawled out from his throat against his intentions, burning on their way. The sound of each whisper echoed unnaturally across the walls of the cramped space.

"Abundans cautela non nocet. Mors vincit omnia, et in inceptum finis est."

Sebastian brought the tray with him as he walked up the stairs. He held it on one hand, freeing the other to gently rap on the door before opening it the rest of the way and entering the room.

"Locis fit caedes-"

Sebastian walked across the carpet until he was standing beside the bed, bent at the waist, and leaned over the top of an elongated lump in the blankets that he presumed he identified correctly.

"The first observer always watches," Cian recited, near mesmerized in the worst of ways. What were those phrases supposed to mean? The only part that was in English seemed like plain logic and it wasn't as if he knew how to translate Latin; he wasn't even certain that the language _was_ Latin.

"Good morning, sir. Pardon my intrusion. It is time for you to wake up," he whispered into what he believed would be around the general area of the young master's ear.

The unexpected nature of the interruption caused Cian to be jolted out of the dream. However, release from that particular nightmare didn't necessarily imply that he was awake, or wanted to be. On the contrary, his awareness was able to fade away from vigilance, making him even more determined to sleep. Cian responded with a groan and huddled further under the blankets, wordlessly expressing his current desire to retreat from living today.

than wait until Cian was ready and allow the morning to come to an end entirely, Sebastian decided to speak again. "Your father has since departed. There is no longer any chance of you encountering him in the hallway," he reasoned in a small attempt at persuasion. When that didn't receive a response at all, he was forced to resort to a more direct measure. He pulled open the drapes and tugged the shade up, allowing light to flood the room with color. He set a folding table beside Cian's bed and placed the tray upon it. The proximity caused the scent of the freshly cooked meal to waft towards the bed, seeping through the covers enough to argue on its own behalf how tantalizing it was.

"For breakfast this morning, I have prepared eggs Benedict with a side of roasted potatoes and a cup of Darjeeling tea. If you wait much longer to taste it, it shall become cold," he advised.

Dazed and displeased, Cian raised a hand and pulled the covers back towards him. He jerked his head to the side, placed a hand over his mouth to conceal a yawn. He didn't want to start mentioning the actual problem, so he decided to create a diversion to stall for time instead. "Why do you think that my father's absence would be a motivating factor?" he asked with an exhausted slur.

Sebastian reached for the covers that Cian had started to pull back, taking them away without pulling them so taut as to risk tearing them accidentally. "Provided how adamantly you avoid him, it would be more remarkable if I had not noticed," he stated back.

The absence of the main source of warmth created enough of a change in temperature that it helped, or forced, Cian to lean upright against the back of the bed. Now that Cian was awake, Sebastian was able to take the final step. He raised the tea kettle off of the candle-lit warmer that had maintained the temperature, and prepared a fresh cup of tea just the way Cian preferred to take it. When he was done, he passed it over directly. Cian took hold of it and stared into the contents with the vacantly drowsy expression that seemed to consume him lately. It felt, and appeared, to be too warm to drink.

"Forgive me if the tea has become bitter to your tastes. The tea bags were stored improperly, and they had lost some of their flavor, requiring me to adjust the steeping time accordingly," Sebastian explained.

A beat passed before Cian was able to form his words into a question. "We have a tea kettle?"

Well, that explained why it had taken so long to find it, and why it had been stored in such an obscure place buried among so many other dusty supplies. "Yes. It was among your finer china in a storage box in the attic. If you do not require anything else, I shall prepare your clothing for the day." Sebastian turned around and began to leave.

Before he had the opportunity to reach the door, Cian interjected. "I suppose there's no chance in me not going to school?"

"You suppose correctly."

"Then, feed Eulalie and bring your car around to the driveway. I'm not in the mood to walk," he ordered, dismissing Sebastian with a wave. To be more specific, this statement was a code that translated to mean he wasn't in the mood to encounter any bullies, idiots, or combination of the two. The act of walking itself, he didn't mind. It was the cumulative damage that he wanted to avoid.

Sebastian bowed his head upon receiving his orders. "I shall return momentarily," he agreed, then turned around and walked out the door into the hallway. The mention of food was enough encouragement that Eulalie was plenty enthusiastic about trotting out after him.

Cian waited until Sebastian was out of sight, and took a sip from the cup. He was far too drowsy to notice whatever subtle nuance in the taste Sebastian had been so concerned with. Breakfast was as decent as ever. He kept his eye shut while he finished picking apart the contents of his plate. Specifically choosing not to focus upon anything other than the inside of his eyelid helped create some relief from the sensation, at least from a temporary standpoint, but it didn't resolve it. Ever since he had woken up, he wasn't able to shake the dizziness from that dream.

As many nightmares as he had experienced previously, these ones continued to trouble him. They came across so realistically that he hesitated to think that they could possibly be just images from his subconscious, but he had no other answer to offer himself, which made it even worse to consider. What could he possibly be overlooking that could rationalize him experiencing tactile sensations while he was unconscious? Unless he had a specific reason for it, then more likely explanation was stress. With the events he'd been through lately, maybe it was normal to start having vivid nightmares and a wild imagination.

By the time Sebastian arrived back upstairs with the newly washed and neatly pressed uniform, Cian had cleared off the majority of his plate, leaving behind nothing more than a few drops of hollandaise sauce. Sebastian placed the hangers onto the back of the door while Cian pushed his tray out of the way and prepared to stand up.

No sooner had he started to lift off, he was stopped by Sebastian standing directly in his path. Cian swayed backwards on the bed, reflexively moving away from the source of the surprise. After a brief moment of observation, he was able to figure out why Sebastian felt the need to spontaneously appear less than a foot in front of him and block his path. He was carrying disinfectant, a bowl of water and a roll of bandages.

"Your wounds are in need of tending. If you do not mind, this should only take a moment." If Sebastian didn't clean out the gash while it was still healing, there was a chance that it would become infected. They had enough inconveniences without creating new ones. Cian understood this well enough that he didn't bother to put up a fuss. Instead, he unbuttoned the pajama shirt he had been wearing and removed one of the sleeves, revealing the slightly yellow tinted bandage wrapped around his upper arm.

Cian closed his eye while Sebastian wiped off the excess buildup of dirt and unseen contaminants, then securely re-wrapped it to prevent any further trouble. He applied enough pressure that minimal debris would enter the space, prepared to tie a knot, and stopped when he took notice of the mildly strained expression on Cian's face. "Is this uncomfortable for you?" Sebastian inquired, concerned he may have secured the bandage a little too well.

Unadmittedly, yes, this was a very uncomfortable situation for Cian to be in. However, it had nothing to do with the bandage. He was being partially honest when he nodded his head and continued to avert his attention to focus anywhere else in the room. He was also lying enough that Sebastian could tell that Cian was using the opportunity for an excuse.

"My apologies, my lord," Sebastian knew that there was more wrong here than merely the possibility of pain, but if Cian wasn't willing to say what it was, the most he could do was attempt to fix the parts that were within his control. He adjusted the bandage, swiftly tied it in place by tucking it towards itself, and placed a knot at the end so it would sit snugly without completely cutting off circulation. "That should be sufficient."

Cian didn't need to be reminded twice that he could leave. Without taking a single moment to readjust, he stood up from the bed, took his uniform out of the closet, and headed down the hallway. He subtly glanced over his shoulder to see what Sebastian was doing, broke contact less than a second later and looked away before Sebastian should have had the chance to notice, loudly shutting the bathroom door behind him. It was his own fault that he allowed such minor things as a meaningless dream or gloved hands on his arm to bother him, so he wasn't going to force someone else to deal with his senseless problems. He could handle them alone.

When Cian took his leave, Sebastian returned to the completion of the cleaning, dismissing the poor reaction as another problem he couldn't help. That type of problem seemed to be in abundance, here, so it wasn't worth the effort to dwell upon. He left the bedroom, heading towards the front door. He grabbed a packed lunch out of the fridge while on his way, stopped for a second time by the closet to slip on a light overcoat, pulled the keys from an inner pocket, and went out to get the car. Roughly two minutes later, Sebastian pulled the car into the driveway. He stepped outside of the driver's seat, circled around, and waited patiently by the passenger-side door.

About five minutes after that, Cian stepped out from inside the house. He secured the door out of habit, adjusted the strap of his bag in the usual disguise for a nervous fidget, and approached the sleek maroon car. Cian had already seen it once before, but he hadn't bothered to really look at it. For some reason, he had recalled it as being black, which it clearly wasn't. It was in pristine condition, without a single speck or scrape on the paint, which made it appear flashier than it otherwise would have been. On a teacher's salary, it wasn't as if Sebastian would have been able to afford a luxury vehicle. Well, since he was residing in a house rent-free, he might have been able to, but it would have been suspicious to drive to work, and this functioned just as well.

Sebastian opened the door for Cian to enter, and closed it behind him when he was seated. Sebastian then circled around to the driver's side while Cian arranged the stereo system to accommodate for his music. He crossed his legs and slipped down on the seat to be comfortable as a passenger. The sole of his left shoe pressed against the dashboard, and in further show of his abysmal posture, Cian's torso swayed towards the window. He pulled his iPod upwards towards his face, scrolling a finger across the wheel in search of an appropriate song.

As horribly impolite as it was, Sebastian chose to ignore the boy's manners, instead opting to fixate on the more important thing amiss. "Sir, your seat belt," he prompted.

The sound of the announcement caused Cian to press his thumb on the scroll pad he had been using, turning on a song that he hadn't intended to play. He turned to Sebastian, and gave him a glance that seemed to announce how unnecessary making that statement was. He'd been in the process of getting to that; he had just needed to attend to the music first. In truth, there was a high probability that he would have forgotten, but since he hadn't had the chance, he could argue hypothetics. He begrudgingly put his seat belt on and turned right back to face the window.

Sebastian pulled out of the driveway, heading towards the school by taking the main streets. The otherwise dominant silence produced by the complete and utter lack of conversation was soon overlapped with instruments and screaming vocals. Sebastian presumed it was music since there was a rhythm to the pacing; it was the lyrics that struck him as truly abnormal. The vocalist seemed to enjoy describing themselves as 'broken', and 'cold', because they continued to do so, a lot. Who had composed this?

When they reached the first intersection, Sebastian prepared to follow the quickest route and go straight. He had been ready to turn the wheel when Cian knocked his hand against the window to call for attention. Sebastian pressed on the brake and turned his head over his shoulder to see what could have possibly gone amiss in the literal minute that they had been in this car, and was met by a disinterested, mildly impatient stare that seemed to imply he'd been waiting to speak for a while.

"Turn to the right, and take the alternate route," Cian demanded.

Sebastian kept his hands still against the wheel and his feet off of the pedals, ensuring that the car would stay still for a moment longer. "If I may, is there a particular reason for this detour?"

"I want you to drop me off two blocks away from the school. Taking the side-streets in ensures that we won't be seen together," Cian answered without a second's delay, making it clear that he had been at least half-anticipating the question. It was also likely that he expected the question to follow. That didn't make it any less necessary or logical to ask when Cian wasn't volunteering the information.

"If safety is your concern, would it not be more beneficial to stay in the car longer?"

"That's because safety isn't the problem, here."

"In that case, would you care to explain what is?"

"Not particularly," Cian answered honestly. It had been a yes-or-no question, and the option was open. He had every reason to be honest. Sebastian didn't appreciate the humor in the caustic commentary.

"Alright, then." In what appeared to be resignation of defeat, or maybe he was merely sick of wasting time, Sebastian took a right turn towards the next street over. He watched the road ahead with enough attention to know where they were going. Cian began to relax, and thus, provided Sebastian his cue to speak up with a statement that had been on his mind for a while. "Tomorrow, perhaps you would like to walk the entire way without accompaniment? There is little difference," he stated with that slyly cheerful confidence that Cian was learning to despise by association. It only showed up when Sebastian knew he had enough of a point that he had already won.

Bitter but not entirely at a loss, Cian kept his eye on the window to avoid giving Sebastian the satisfaction of looking at him while he tried to figure out how he could explain himself. After a few seconds of pressing a hand to his cheek and trying to articulate, he concluded that a 'good' way to phrase this didn't exist and settled for what he had. "Mr. Holender was able to determine what you and I were based merely upon a few ambiguous comments I made. There are some measures that we can't help, but we shouldn't make it obvious that we have any sort of connection other than teacher to student. We can't afford to leave hints, and most teachers don't take their students with them to school on a regular basis," he explained.

With the added context, now the otherwise unreasonable demand seemed downright logical. Sebastian understood entirely. "Was that so horrible to state?" Sebastian asked, in an attempt to be gently encouraging.

"Yes," Cian answered, unyieldingly honest. He sighed softly and continued to look out the window towards the passing houses and colored, dying leaves.

It hadn't been the request that bothered him. It was the way that Sebastian constantly seemed so entertained by him that had gotten on his nerves more than anything else. Each time that piercing stare directed at him, he was filled with anxiety that he refused to think of. Sebastian returned to watching the road, but the sensation lingered as long as the thoughts did. No matter what Sebastian had said or done, Cian couldn't shake this nagging idea that to a demon, he was nothing more than a toy to play games with and manipulate. On the opposing side, there were some games that it took two to play, and there was a great deal of satisfaction to be found in outplaying an expert. It was to the point where he wasn't sure if he liked it or despised it.

"I hope you're aware, there will come a point where your words no longer faze me," Cian stated definitively. It wasn't an assertion that he should have been making, because he had no idea if it would be true, but this struck him as an appropriate moment for a bluff.

"And I shall readily look forward to that day. Perhaps it will allow us to arrive at school on time."

"As will I," Cian retorted, for no other reason than his unwillingness to allow someone else to have the last word. Sebastian recognized this well enough that he didn't bother to interfere, ending it there.

Sebastian brought the car to a stop at the curb of the sidewalk two blocks away from the school's back entrance, exactly as he had been instructed. Sebastian reached over to unlock the door from the inside, but Cian raised a hand to block the movement and pressed the lock open on his own. He wasted no time in unhooking his seat-belt, opening the door, and stepping out onto the empty street. While climbing out, he had grabbed the side of the doorframe. He continued to hang by that hand for a moment extra, peering at the interior while he gave a few parting instructions.

"If all goes well, I'll see you fifth period. We can discuss the remainder of the day on the way home. Remember your excuse and no matter what occurs, if I don't order it directly, stick to your job and do not call special attention to me," Cian ordered. He stepped back, shut the door and started on his way before Sebastian would have had the chance to speak back. That was for the best; they didn't have time for any more discussions.

By the time Sebastian arrived in the faculty parking lot, there was only one space left, proving that he was the last one to arrive. He pulled his briefcase out of the back seat and walked briskly towards the main building. The clock mounted on the wall of the front entrance stated that there were approximately six minutes remaining before the homeroom bell. He was short on time and would need to rush through organizing the lesson plans, but he wasn't late yet. So long as he didn't run into any more delays, he would be okay.

The presence of a dependent clause in that statement should have been enough to prove that whatever he needed to avoid would be precisely what happened next.

The hallways were oddly deserted for the time of day. Initially, this had almost seemed as if it was going to be a convenience. Less people in the area meant less people to create a problem. That was when he heard trampling that was best compared to a stampede followed by an oddly loud crinkling noise rapidly approaching from the next corridor over. He should have known the idea of a calm morning was far too good to be possible.

Instantly alert, Sebastian turned his head to see what the cause might be. He was met with the sight of an unidentifiable figure that he presumed to be a person submerged in vinyl material that was intended to be a school spirit banner, which was now finding new use as a brightly colored ghost costume. They were flailing about blindly, spinning through the hall while attempting to find a way to escape from the depths of un-breathable fabric, while a second person chased after them in a pitiful attempt to try and grab it off.

Somehow, Sebastian wasn't nearly as surprised by this as he should have been. Though he still had no idea how this had occurred, based on the identity of the student who was on the other side of the hallway, frantically chasing after the disaster-to-be, he had a fairly sound suspicion as to who might be trapped inside. That was explanation enough.

Sebastian casually stepped out of the path that the oncoming disaster was traveling down. The tangled maroon and gold mess stumbled by while attempting to find a sense of balance. It ran towards a wall, and came close enough to colliding with a locker at the side that the impact made a lamp on the ceiling begin to rock drastically from one side to another. The floor began to slip away from beneath their feet, to the point where it was a nudge and a misstep away from dramatically colliding with the wall.

Sebastian kept watch until an edge of the fabric was in view. When the opportunity arose, he grabbed it with a swift yet smooth tug, causing the sheet to unravel without doing any damage to the banner. From beneath the mound of tarp fabric emerged a bespectacled girl with burgundy red hair. To be honest, he hadn't expected anything less at this point. Of course this would be the case. To think that he would get any sort of a reprieve from dealing with incompetence just because he no longer worked alongside these people was far too optimistic.

She had been tripping already, so the removal of the cloth beneath her feet didn't have much of an influence in stopping her, just in altering the direction she happened to be crashing at. She reached out and raised her arms while trying to steady herself, which had absolutely no positive effect whatsoever. For a brief moment, Sebastian wondered what would occur if he allowed her to fall without interfering. He quickly discarded the idea as impractical, cast the banner aside, and skidded to a stop on his knees behind the point where she was about to land, allowing him to catch her.

It probably said something about the people that he was typically surrounded by that making these types of catches was such a routine process he didn't need to bother thinking to perform it. He didn't even need to glance at her to predict the reaction that would follow. The moment she realized what had happened, she would start to blush. Shortly after that, she would squeak nervously while attempting to figure out how to regain the capacity for speech. Thirty seconds or so later, she'd finally return to her senses enough that he could safely stand up without her falling over. This all passed as anticipated, with the additional, minor clarification that she still hadn't figured out how to talk after he'd set her down.

She was no longer at risk for being harmed in that accident, so he began to take a cautious step away from the scene. As if the scenery itself planned to conspire against him, he hadn't made it a full pace backwards before he was interrupted by the sound of an oncoming rampage. He turned his head to see if he could spot the source of such commotion, and was met by the sight of the missing person turning around a sharp corner, rushing frantically down the hall. They were moving so quickly that it appeared they weren't bothering to employ their sense of sight to assist them. In order to avoid being run into, Sebastian had to freeze in place.

Still set in a state of temporary selective sight, they skidded past Sebastian to a stop in the middle of the hallway and set two hands on the other girl's shoulders. Tears welled up in their eyes, to the point where it appeared that she was the one who was really frightened by what was happening. "Oh god oh god, Marlene, tell me you're okay and that they weren't gonna get you and-" she stopped rambling in worry when she reached the very delayed realization that the world had not recently reached a gory demise and furthermore, there was someone else in the hallway as well. She turned her head slightly to look at Sebastian and stared.

There was a noteworthy gap between when her expression turned blank from confusion. The pause lasted for as long as her mind took to grasp what had happened. The instant when she understood, she began to speak again as if the previous thirty full seconds hadn't occurred at all. "Mr. Michaelis, thank you! Please don't be mad! It wasn't our faults, I swear! There was a flicker and all the sudden the ghost made the sign fall down!" she apologized through abnormally boisterous sobbing.

Ordinarily, Sebastian would have dismissed this. He would have been slightly annoyed by the sniveling, but he still would have brushed the subject aside. The problem had already been created and the damage couldn't be reversed that easily. However, that statement was a little odd for an excuse, especially when it was so abnormally specific.

"A ghost?" he repeated, not entirely able to conceal his exasperated disbelief. From what he had witnessed, he couldn't even start to determine where someone would reach that conclusion. Where could an idea like that have possibly struck her as being logically sound, or, for that matter, good? He knew of ghosts. It was true that they existed. It wasn't true that any of them would be wasting their efforts pulling down posters in a school, and even if one was honestly that bored, he would have been able to sense a poltergeist long before two teenage girls brought it up.

If she spotted Sebastian's disbelief, she was choosing to entirely ignore it. "Yes!" She exclaimed with misplaced conviction. She turned away to look towards her recovering friend, in an attempt to receive some back-up. "What else could it be? You remember, don't you, Marley? Yesterday, how you got shoved down the stairs when there wasn't anyone behind you and tripped over nothing?"

The girl who was evidently named Marlene started to take a step back when she was spoken to. She stared down at her hands and started twisting her fingers around, fidgeting to try and distract herself from other matters. "Oh, I, I, not," she tried to speak, and lost track of where she had intended to go so quickly that she may have not even completed the thought before it slipped her mind.

"What about how we kept getting shivers every time we passed by the music room? We both thought we heard music but nobody was there when we opened the door. And then there were the random messages on the school computers, and Brad's eraser disappeared right off of his desk in the middle of class when nobody was around to take it, and" she stopped herself from continuing any further when the memory of it was enough to give her a slight case of the creeps, along with a more outwardly apparent shiver.

Yet again, Sebastian started to think this was the opportune moment for him to leave. He was just about ready to speak up a few words of parting when Marlene worked through enough of her embarrassment that she was able to speak in fragments, destroying any hope of making a swift exit within the minute.

"It's probably not, uhm, when Finley says tripped over nothing, there really might not have been anything else there. I was trying to make the banner lay straight when it fell. There's nothing to worry about! I'll fix it right away, I promise!" Marlene apologized while attempting not to look frightened. Her eyes darted from one side to the other to avoid looking directly at him.

"But that doesn't explain everything else! There's no other reason! It has to be a gho, os," Finley's expression seemed to freeze when her thoughts drifted right back in the opposite direction than they should have gone. The thoughts made her feel just nauseous enough to justify the complaining. "I want to go home! I don't feel well and it's safer there!" she exclaimed, distraught to the verge of tears, not that tears took that much effort when she was already crying just a few moments ago.

From there, it was a chain reaction for Marlene to be frightened as well. She gulped, trying, and failing, not to reveal this to Sebastian. To her credit, at least she wasn't crying, though there was no guarantee as to how long that would last if allowed to progress.

In that single second that Sebastian had spared to observe Marlene's condition, Finley had latched directly onto his arm and started pulling him downwards. Finley gazed upwards with wide, pathetically quivering eyes. Perfect. Somewhere, a person existed who would find this adorable or endearing. This hypothetical being could feel free to take his place at any time.

Sebastian raised the arm that wasn't being restricted by an iron grip to set a hand on Finley's shoulder. He released a short breath that sounded oddly similar to a sigh, and then spoke. He couldn't appear shaken or irritated when he needed her to listen. "If you are feeling unwell, Hayes, then you may go to the nurse's office. I shall speak with your homeroom teacher to explain your absence on your behalf later, if necessary," he tried to assure her.

Slowly, he slipped his arm away from Finley's grasp. The process was gradual enough that she didn't seem to mind, or perhaps she just didn't notice. He took advantage of his regained mobility to retrieve the fallen sign. If it had been left in a pile to be forgotten, he had this suspicion that someone would have tripped on it.

Once it was evident that Finley was no longer in hysterics, Sebastian was able to attend to the lesser source of vexation. "As for you, Weiss, there is no reason for your concern. It is best that you continue on your way to class. Someone else shall attend to the banner, and you would not want to be tardy," he advised while watching her closely. Maintaining a focus point on the subject of the conversation was, logically enough, polite and helpful for Sebastian. Marlene wasn't receiving the same benefits.

Receiving direct attention from someone so completely gorgeous was making her so nervous that she was a moment away from swooning. Her face turned a dark shade of pink before she was able to wrestle her eyes away from a sideways glance. That brief moment had been enough to almost entirely erase any image of a ghost from her mind, replacing the imaginary scene with another type of daydream that she should probably be ashamed of having. She had been standing there for half a minute before she bothered to move, or for that matter, think.

"Oh, yes, right. You're right, right," she stuttered with a wave of the hand, in a severely delayed attempt to distract from her embarrassment. "I, uh, don't feel so well either, so, I'm gonna- go with Finney too. Make sure she finds the nurse and, bye!" With that rushed statement as her parting words, she took Finley's hand, and the two of them finally left Sebastian to his new predicament.

He was already late, so he decided not to try delegating the task and to put the sign back up in its proper space himself. It wouldn't take him that long, and it gave him a few moments of actual silence to contemplate the possible implications of what he just heard if Finley wasn't lying to him.

If he assumed that her statements could be substantiated, it meant that there was a supernatural presence in the vicinity. Ghosts weren't capable of causing such things, but the influence of a malicious demon was more than possible. If it was causing phenomena randomly, it meant that it was being drawn towards the school, but it hadn't located its intended target. If this was the case, it was more than a stroke of good fortune that they hadn't attended yesterday. It was too convenient to be a coincidence. Cian had experienced a case of subconscious intuition.

This new development was interesting, and it brought a few new possibilities to light, but it wasn't particularly helpful. Avoiding school for another day was no longer an option- it would only raise suspicions. They were in the best instance they could have aspired for. It just wasn't very reassuring when it set them on the defense in a naturally restricted setting. Something knew they were there, but it didn't know they were the ones it was looking for.

As he pressed push pins into the wall to hold the sign up, there was a single subject weighing on his mind that he had no way of knowing the answer to. There were three hours until he would have the opportunity to share this information. Until then, the Cian was unlikely to realize that there was danger to be wary of unless it was already striking. So, how much good fortune did the young master have left, and would it be enough to bide them time?

…Then again, it was just as possible that this theory was invalid and he was as mistaken as the source the information came from. For all he was aware, the entire basis of this assumption could be the result of a teenage girls' wild imagination, and unless something were to go specifically wrong, that would remain consistent. He supposed it wasn't worth dwelling on for long when the answer would unveil itself in due time. For the next three hours, he would be sure to keep his ears open, just in case.


	11. Contrition

Chapter XI: Contrition

Elsewhere, the object of Sebastian's thoughts was sitting in the back left corner of his homeroom class, fully awake, entirely secure and for the most part unenthused with what was happening around him. Other students were rushing to get in a few final sentences of chatter in before the homeroom bell chimed. He chose to ignore the white noise of their conversations in order to think more clearly about the past fifteen hours and what they might imply.

Between the hallucination at the skating rink and the vivid nightmare, the events around him were deteriorating from weird to inexplicable. No matter how he spun it to himself, he wasn't able to rationalize the hallucination. If it was any type of living creature, Sebastian should have noticed it as well. Cian was seeing images that weren't there for others to perceive. That was not a statement which was easy to present as the claim of a sane person.

Cian pressed his hand against his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair, at a loss. The noise of the classroom subsided, and was promptly replaced by the broadcast of this morning's announcements. He chose not to listen to the redundant statements he'd already heard three days ago. There were far better applications of his time, such as coercing himself into the belief that he hadn't somehow become an utter lunatic over the course of the last two days.

So long as he was cautious, there was no logical need for anxiety. If the shadows were a figment of his imagination, they wouldn't be able to harm him. If they weren't, they would have a weakness, and he had a forewarning which others didn't. This made perfect sense, so it was a pity that anxiety tended to be immune to logic. In spite of the argument, he felt uneasy. He pressed his hands against his head for the remaining duration of the announcements and sat there, drifting off into a temporary trance that wasn't broken until the second ring of the end-of-period bell.

When Cian finally noticed it was time to go, he stood up, took his things and prepared to move. Because he had been sitting in the back of the room, the main pathway was clogged with a few stalling students chatting before they left. To circumvent any potential blockades, Cian walked behind the last row of desks to approach the door from another direction. He was nearly there when his path was blocked intentionally by an obstruction that wasn't so easy to avoid- his homeroom teacher.

She stood completely still, staring towards Cian with the type of intent that was so simple to misinterpret as malicious. Cian locked his eye on him as well, formulating an escape route and a counter-assault until he realized that her expectation probably had less to do with wanting to kill him and more to do with the desire for respect. Cian adjusted his posture by straightening his back and raised his head so his bangs no longer draped over his good eye. "Good morning, Mrs. Burkley," he greeted her in the stoically businesslike way the majority of teachers here preferred.

There wasn't much in the way of an outward sign that Mrs. Burkley approved. She didn't smile, nor did she return the comment. The sole indication that she had even heard Cian was the wrinkle beneath her right eye rising in inquiry.

"I'll write you a pass excusing you from being tardy, so wait a few moments before you leave. We need to discuss something important," she stated with subtle disapproval. It didn't exactly thrill Cian that Mrs. Burkley was making such demands, but there was no way for him to counteract it without undermining her authority, so he let it pass and followed her across the room to her desk.

Mrs. Burkley started shifting through unkempt stacks of files on her desk, in search of something. "We missed you in class yesterday, Lovell. Again. Since you've decided to show up today, I'll take it you're feeling better?" She spoke abruptly, her eyes never breaking contact with the scattered pages.

"Yes, I am," Cian confirmed without hesitation, lying blatantly. It would have been more accurate to use a less definitive answer, but if there was even the slightest bit of concern hidden behind that emotionless accusation, he couldn't afford encouraging it; not that Mrs. Burkley's expression exuded compassion. If anything, it was apparent that his teacher was only bothering to hold this conversation out of obligation.

"Couldn't help noticing that's a common theme with you lately. It's such a strong theme that it's becoming more of a surprise when you _do_ show up. I understand that there can always be extenuating circumstances, but there are limits to how many days we're permitted to let you miss while still letting you graduate the year, no matter how high your grades are. I do like you, but you're substantially more of a pleasure to have in class the first time through. If there's some sort of problem at home, we might be able to arrange an exception to test you through, but in order for us to know about that you'd need to say something about it, understand?"

Cian resisted the temptation to laugh or roll his eyes at the comment, and merely nodded his head to it understandingly. He didn't want to risk speaking aloud. There were plenty of problems with his life at home, but there wasn't the slimmest chance in hell he would get away with telling his homeroom teacher about it and not instantly be referred to a(nother) psychiatrist. Somehow, he couldn't envision saying that there are demons and their human allies plotting to kill him would've gone over well.

Mrs. Burkley grabbed a packet from beneath her desk calendar and extended it towards Cian. "This is a copy of the notes from your classes yesterday, along with yesterday's graded assignments. The teachers have marked down the due dates. I expect you to have them completed and handed in on time," she said sternly. Cian accepted the pack of papers and glanced over the front page. The majority of the work were readings which they were likely to cover in today's class, along with a few worksheets and an outline for a project due later. It wasn't an exciting prospect, but it wasn't too unreasonable.

"Of course, ma'am," Cian replied without question, telling her what he knew she wanted to hear with a calculated amount of confidence and enthusiasm for emphasis. By technicality, he did intend to keep to the promise he was making right now. He would keep up with his coursework; that was a necessity for the sake of not creating suspicion. He had no intentions whatsoever of missing less school. He'd just prepare better excuses.

Mrs. Burkley accepted this without question, plummeting into the trap of hearing what she wanted to. "Wait a second, I'll write you that pass and you can be on your way. Also, there's an assignment for my class that I should explain a little better…"

By the time Mrs. Burkley had finished elaborating upon every last imaginable detail of the project she assigned, the first period bell had already rung. If it hadn't been for that interruption, Cian suspected that she would've kept going for another half an hour trying to convey what he already understood. In a way, that bell had been a lucky reprieve. It would have been a lot more so if it didn't also mean he was running late for class. The pass he had been written would prevent him from being scolded for it, but that didn't make up for the portions of the lesson he was missing.

Cian knew the hallways well enough that by taking a few unconventional shortcuts and rushing, he was able to arrive within two minutes. He was just about ready to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw the approaching door was abnormally dark. Upon approaching a little closer, he spotted the notice taped beside the door frame, stating that all students for the first three period classes were to report to the chemistry lab for class instead.

"Well, that's typical," he mumbled to himself with a suppressed sigh and far more latent frustration than he wanted to let on. Even if he kept a brisk pace, it would still take him a good three minutes to travel to the opposite end of the building. Those sick, twisted powers that be evidently didn't want him to rush to get there. Cian scuffed his foot against the ground and trudged onwards at a severely lessened pace. He had no choice but to attend class when he was already on the attendance roster, especially after being given that speech, but it had said nothing about stalling.

By the time Cian had finally arrived at the chemistry lab, Cian missed a grand total of seven minutes of his first period class. The instructor was standing in front of the class, marking the dry-erase board with printed statements under the heading of 'Experiment Five'. He had been in the middle of making some type of statement when Cian opened the door, causing the teacher to stop mid-sentence and look sideways.

Before he could be asked for an explanation, Cian held the pink slip in clear sight. This prevented the teacher from criticizing his behavior. Instead, he gestured towards the back of the room, towards the only open station. "Pick up a worksheet from the side table on your way. Everyone's paired off already, so you'll need to work on your own," he explained in the most accommodating way he could. He emphasized the end condition as if it was supposed to be a problem whereas Cian took it as a relief.

Cian walked around the side of the walls. He snatched up one of the remaining papers stacked on the so-designated side table as instructed, and reviewed the information while trudging along the perimeter of the room to his seat.

"As I was saying," he cleared her throat as a means of calling for the students' attention at the front of the room, which didn't have much of an effect. He seemed to either not notice or not care. "When writing an equation, it is important to remember that there is no invisible force at work. Every product of a reaction is there because it was formed by a reactant. It's the same rules that apply in mathematics. The numbers must always remain balanced, even when we can't see all of the resulting products firsthand."

From there, the teacher went on to elaborate and repeat statements that were just as easily understood by reading the work itself. Today's project was a simple exercise to predict and monitor the results of a basic chemical reaction involving the transition of hydrogen peroxide into oxygen. The ingredients had been previously measured and set out at the work stations, so all of the work required of the student was contained on the one double-sided sheet of paper.

Once situated at his table, Cian glimpsed over the front side of the worksheet while waiting for the teacher to stop lecturing. They weren't allowed to begin until he had finished her dissertation, which made sense considering that most of the students wouldn't understand the work required until it was explained to them directly. However, most of what Cian was hearing occurred to him as basic logic, so he didn't bother waiting. He flew through the opening questions, jotting down answers without much effort. All the while, he kept his unfocused eye watching the rest of the classroom with a cautious eye.

By the time conversation burst across the room, signaling that the teacher had reached the end of his lecture, Cian was a full page ahead of the rest of the class. The back of the worksheet was intended to list the chemical formula and conclusions based upon the reaction. Cian suspected that it wasn't a good idea to immediately begin the experiment, since that would prove that he'd been working ahead. Instead, he decided to try and continue on the back of the worksheet without bothering to do the experiment first. He understood what elements were involved; the product wasn't going to change from person to person. While he wasn't entirely certain what the product would be, that created the challenge of trying to figure it out. He was bored enough that it seemed like a good idea to try.

Cian picked up one of the vials placed upon the table and gazed at the contents. The container he was holding had a red, slightly sudsy substance inside that was labeled as liquid soap. The other two set on the table were both colorless. If it wasn't for their labels, they would easily have been mistaken for pure water. One of them was the hydrogen peroxide mentioned on the summary page, while the second one was labeled as a solution of potassium iodide. In this case, the potassium would need to act as the catalyst in what should be a mild reaction. Cian wrote down the basic equation and moved around the letters until he had the oxygen listed as a byproduct, and the chemical makeup of the foam listed separately. That didn't take nearly as long as he'd been hoping it would.

He slouched forward in his seat and peered through the glass vial closest to him, observing the pairs at the other tables mingling amongst one another. The rest of the room was just bracing to begin. Cian rolled his and started to wonder where he'd set his missed assignments. If he was stuck here, he might as well accomplish some work. Observing everyone else and waiting for them to start wasn't going to do him much good. This thought was cut short by an interruption in his sight followed by a sudden chill at the back of his neck.

A wave rippled through the room, distorting the surroundings with static and abruptly changing lines, as if a video-tape was being rewound in real time. The effect was dizzying to the point that he had to grip the edge of the table to keep from falling over. He turned his head to try following the glint of movement he knew he had spotted. By the time he was facing in the direction he saw it from, the unknown image was out of sight.

He pressed his elbow against the table and leaned against his hand, hiding his face in the process, not that anyone would look. "Again?" he whispered impatiently, beyond frustrated with the grim imagery. It was starting the first few times, but as creepy as it had been when there was no warning, it didn't seem to mean anything.

Cian slowly looked the classroom over for a second time. He repeated to himself that there was not going to be a single change around him. Except, when he examined his surroundings; there was.

A member of the pair ahead of him was holding one of their vials up towards the light. A moment ago, all of the containers in the room were either red or a solution that looked like water, yet somehow, the liquid inside that particular vial had a consistency more similar to syrup. That wasn't an ingredient in the experiment they were meant to be performing. A moment ago, it had been, but some aspect of that disturbance must have switched it. His common sense tried to tell him he was wrong, but in this situation that could only matter if he was sure, which he couldn't be.

For lack of a better idea, Cian leaned over his desk to the next row and nudged at the guy's shoulder to get his attention. "Don't add that. The ingredients are mixed up, that's not potassium!" he blurted out in far more of a panic than he had intended to display.

On the positive side, he was successful in getting the team ahead of him to look his way. The one holding the vial appeared completely perplexed, while his friend was far from pleased by the abrupt interruption. Neither of them had any real hint as to what initiated that exclamation. The more they were at a loss for words, the more concerned Cian became that he was making a complete idiot of himself. In the awkward silence, he had come to the dread-ridden realization that the delayed motions of the vial's contents might have been just as much of an illusion as the shadows were. His stomach lurched at the possibility.

"Why not? But, that's what the label says it is," one of the students stated, still confused as to how that could happen. Cian had never spoken to him before, so he wasn't certain, but he believed that his name was Soumil, or something similar to it. Remembering wasn't really on his mind right now, so he chose not to dwell on it.

"They were pre-labeled. It may have been poured into the incorrect container," he stated promptly, coming up with the best excuse he could think of.

Thankfully for Cian, his inflection was convincing enough to make the improvised babble sound probable, or at the very least, not as if it was made up five seconds ago. Both of the students stopped what they were doing for the time being. Soumil sat the opposite way on his chair and leaned his arms over the top of the back, facing Cian. "Why? What makes you think that?" he asked, not entirely believing but more than prepared to hear out any claim. If the spark of childish intrigue in his expression was to be believed, it almost looked like he expected to be told a story.

Cian couldn't help but to raise a questioning eyebrow to this. For lack of any decent alternatives in the natural time limit, he would need to stick to his analysis in order to form an answer. He sighed to prepare himself, and finally, settled on an acceptable starting point.

"When diluted for use in an experiment such as this," Cian picked up his assigned container from the table to reference while he was speaking, "potassium iodide has an appearance that is almost indistinguishable from basic tap water in clarity and consistency. Disturbances in the surface form with little outside force involved, like so," he shifted the container in his hand enough to spin the contents, and placed it back upon the surface a few inches away from his classmate's face to prove it. "Attempt to do the same with yours. If it's potassium it'll do the same." He thought, anyway.

Before Cian had completed the question, the student whose name he failed to remember in any form was steadily holding the beaker. Without bothering to utter a word about it, he held it up and gently shifted it sideways. The contents slid with gravity towards the lower end in a slow drooping motion that wasn't even close to resembling plain tap water; a development that managed to be both reassuring and disconcerting for drastically separate reasons.

The proof of this change was enough to completely mesmerize Soumil. He stared intently at the contents, with enough concentration that he might as well have been trying to melt it with his eyes. A few moments of that later, he bothered to voice what was on his mind in the form of an inquiry. "It looks as if it's sticky. Is it some kind of gel?" On second thought, it sounded more as if he wanted to touch it, or some equally horrible idea defined by the standards of what not to do with an unidentified substance.

"It looks like corn syrup to me," the other partner observed, voicing his statement aloud.

Both were opinions, and in all likelihood, both were wrong. "It's too viscuous to be a standard oil, and gel as a category would distort the image seen through it. I doubt it's either," Cian explained aloud, reaching his conclusion at the same moment that he stated it.

"So, what do you think it is?" Soumil inquired in continued interest, almost literally hanging on the edge of his seat in interest. He seemed to be under the impression that Cian had an actual idea where this was going to head.

For lack of a current answer, Cian tried to speak through it, in the chance that stating what he knew in words would assist in connecting his otherwise abstract thoughts. "When accounting for the contents of the lab not including the aforementioned common cooking ingredients, in combination with its consistency, I'm uncertain how to identify it." This did not help much.

"No, no, you have to have some idea. Otherwise you wouldn't have noticed it! Try again," Soumil encouraged with a wave of his hand, rejecting the notion that Cian couldn't know.

Cian didn't want to make the situation that much worse by not answering, so he continued to run the criteria through his mind to check. What type of substance, compound or element, would have this set of properties? It wasn't necessarily uncommon for a substance to be of a heavier consistency, or for it to be clear. Then, the description set together. In the course of a minute, two of the words they had used to describe it would apply.

"Oil of vitriol," he whispered in realization. It wasn't a definitive answer by any means, but it could be true. "It might be sulfuric acid. Regardless of what it is, it's in our better interest to dispose of it as promptly as possible."

"Great, now we know what it is!"

"Have you ever heard the word 'might' before? Because that's not even close to the definition. I'm speculating, we don't know," Cian attempted to insist.

The thought fell on deaf ears, at least when it came to Soumil, who had no interest in hearing otherwise. No sooner had a suggestion of a request been made did the other student take the beaker away from the table. Presumably, they had read the list of intended ingredients on the experiment's worksheet and knew what they would need to replace it with. Even if they didn't, they were taking initiative to be of assistance. That was far more than could be said about most people, including one encouraging onlooker who seemed to think he had been of far more assistance than he was, if his eagerness was to be taken as any indication.

"From a practical standpoint, that information isn't really that helpful," Cian commented offhandedly. He was about to mention that it wouldn't have been that harmful not to know when he realized that was a lie. There were certain other ingredients which hydrogen peroxide reacted with differently than most. For instance, if combined with a strong derivative of a substance such as sulfur, its natural reactivity and oxidizing properties would be emphasized.

Cian attempted to maintain a level head at the thought. For the most part, he had succeeded at concealing any symptoms of panic, with the exception of the color of his face. A sudden pale had washed over him, making him appear as if he'd either stopped breathing or become nauseous in that short stretch of time.

Soumil noticed the change, and couldn't help but to be concerned about it. He waved his hand in front of Cian's face to see if he was still there. Cian's eye followed enough to prove that he was paying attention, and he looked unamused enough to prove that his stand-offish demeanor was present as well. "Hey, what's wrong? All of the sudden you look as if there's a rotten egg under your nose, an-"

The sentence he had been prepared to complete was cut off by the completely unexpected noise they least would have wanted to hear.

"Holy shit!"

A scream echoed through the classroom, booming in volume and saturated in pain much too strong to be caused by a minor trip-and-fall. For a moment, the entire classroom was still, frozen by the crack of that call. Cian was among the first to regain enough sense to give in to his impulse and look to see what had happened.

One of the students; Aaron, to be specific, was holding his hand by his wrist. He was trembling, and his eyes and mouth were agape in terror while the solution melted straight through the glove he had been wearing to attack his skin. In that moment of panic, he managed to rip the glove off and toss it on the ground, only to have the substance wipe off on the fingers of his other, unprotected hand. It took a moment before the problem registered as more than a scream, and he started to cry for help instead.

The teacher ran across the room to Aaron's side. In a preemptive strike against the chaos that was otherwise certain to erupt in the classroom, he started barking instructions. "Stay calm, everybody! Ellie, you go get the nurse and notify her of what's happened. Everyone else, go outside in the hallway with your textbooks and work on tonight's reading, right now!"

Intimidated enough by the sheer authority in his voice, the students scrambled for their belongings, snatched them from their tables and left. Some did so with more efficiency than others. For obvious reasons, the students near the front door were able to make a far swifter escape than those on the opposite side of the room, such as Cian. He was far calmer about claiming his belongings, didn't stumble, and spared a momentary glance towards the scene as he passed by.

The sight was unsettling while placed in the context only he knew. There was no plausible way he would have been able to prevent this when he had failed to foresee it, but why hadn't it occurred to him that whatever tampering may have been done to one table could be repeated with the others? It would have been a stretch to say he would have been able to prevent what he had no way of anticipating, but that didn't stop the image of failure from seeping into his mind.

Due to his positioning as well as his delay, he was the second to last person to exit the room. By the time he reached the hallway, at least half of the students had decided their time was best spent elsewhere. The few who had bothered to stick around didn't have the suggested coursework on their minds. After what had just occurred, how could they?

Cian settled in beside the wall, close to the door. He turned his head to check his right side, and was met with the sight of a person he recognized to a degree. It was the other student in the pair who he had been speaking to inside the classroom; the one who he didn't know the name of. There was a look of expectation on his face, as if he had been waiting for Cian to notice that he was there. He inched a step inwards and leaned towards Cian, so much so that it would have been an invasion of his personal space. Cian took an equal step backwards to prevent this.

The other student must have wanted to avoid being overheard from the classroom. Most everyone in the hallway was disregarding the implication that they weren't sent outside for the sake of chatting, but the silence had been an implied suggestion, so it wasn't entirely abnormal to try and disguise the conversation as being something else. As it turned out, the context wasn't the reason for secrecy when he whispered the message towards Cian's ear.

"You knew this was going to happen?" The inflection in his voice had bypassed curiosity to run directly into being an accusation.

"Of course not," Cian whispered back in an instant retort. He intended it to be taken genuinely, as he well should have, because it was an honest statement. His claim was met with a skeptical stare which soon turned into a judgmental glare. This guy didn't believe a word that he was saying. "I didn't even attend school yesterday, and I arrived late to class. When would I possibly have had the time to do something like that?" he attempted to reason. It wasn't of much assistance by now.

"You saved Soumil. Understand that is the sole reason why I'll spare you this and not hand you over to Mrs. Miller. If this occurs again, and he is placed in harms' way, I will not repeat this gesture." His stern gaze stuck on Cian. He dipped his head downwards in a gesture that was similar to a shallow bow. "I hope you have a pleasant day," and with that, he departed, taking his leave to stand at the opposite side of the hallway beside his friend.

It would've taken so much effort to create a lie that, as much as it frustrated him to have someone else place him at fault for this, it wasn't worth it to preserve his honor. It may have been a defeatist statement, but it was also practical to realize that some people were too set in their presumptions to be convinced otherwise. Cian had enough responsibility that he wasn't fully able to even persuade himself that he was somehow innocent when it wouldn't have happened if he wasn't there. No matter what happened here, at its root, it was his fault. He may not have taken action toward it or wanted it to occur, but there was no avoiding the realization that it wouldn't be happening if he didn't attend this particular school.

"So, it's true what they're saying, isn't it? That there's, like, a real live ghost here? What if we're next?" behind a cupped hand, one of the girls in the class spoke to her friends. The two other girls beside her shivered in discomfort at the idea and instantly agreed. Setting aside the conundrum of applying the word 'live' as a description of a ghost, if only that were true, Cian was certain his life would be a hell of a lot easier.

During his third period class, there had been a pop quiz on the reading assignment from two days ago. Under most circumstances, this would have been far from unexpected, if it wasn't the third period history class that had received it. When Cian resided with the teacher in question, he anticipated to be given at least some type of forewarning about such things, and there had been no prior indication that Sebastian had been planning on adding to the headache that had been 'today'. If it wouldn't have drawn attention to himself, this would have been a very appropriate moment to smack the palm of his hand into his face and groan about it. Instead, he was limited to a subtle sigh and answering the questions.

It was only after the test was handed back that Cian was able to understand the significance of the action. Across the top of the page, in corrective red ink, there was a note instructing him not to stay behind in the building after school, but also not to go home right away. As long as he kept to the area, Sebastian would be able to find him later. It obviously wasn't safe for him to stay here any longer than necessary. While a preventative measure as feeble as not staying around wasn't the most effective of techniques for avoiding suspicion and ran a number of risks in its own right, at the time, it was the best they had to work with.

It was for that reason that, six and a half unsettling hours later, he was lurking in the second story café of a local bookstore with a tea and a half-eaten cookie to his side, staying as far away from the commonly associated destinations of a student returning home as possible. He kept to himself while he tried to complete the day's worth of assignments that he had missed. Maintaining his concentration when there were so many more interesting books around him was a struggle of will. He was bored, and the aspirin he had taken didn't relieve his headache in the slightest. It was of great relief to him when he was finally able to drop his pencil upon the last worksheet, shut his notebook, and put away the waste of an hour to do something that might actually manage to count as enjoyable.

For the sake of avoiding any self-analysis, he borrowed one of the nearest available books which he had read previously. He opened it up to the front page, and approximately two smirks, a suppressed chuckle and a horrible realization later, he put the book back down. The book that he had picked up was partially about a demon. It was one of his favorite books and generally hilarious, so it usually acted as something of a default, but he wasn't in the mood for it today. Feeling especially awkward, he put the book back where he had found it, walked a few aisles away, picked up the next thing that caught his interest and brought it back over to his table to read instead.

It would have been a stretch to say that he was relaxed. Reading _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ wasn't that helpful in soothing him into a lull of complete serenity, but it did manage to be a break from the tension. Cian wasn't certain what it said about the nature of his life when reading murder mysteries was moderately and almost comfortingly nostalgic, but it was interesting enough to hold his attention, so he wasn't going to fuss about it.

Roughly an hour or so later, around the same hour that most ordinary people would have designated as the proper time to eat dinner, the familiar face he was waiting for finally rode up the escalator to the second story. They spotted one another from across the store. The moment their eyes locked was filled with a silent acknowledgment that soon gave way when Cian averted his attention back to the text within the book, ignoring his approach with what he tried to project as complete disinterest.

Sebastian passed by the aisles of shelves, attracting a few sideways stares along the way. There was little he could have done to avoid the attention, so he continued on as if he hadn't noticed and maintained his focus on what required his focus instead. He weaved a path through the bunched chairs of the café, passing by the occasional other customer in the process, until he arrived beside the back window. He bent slightly at the waist to lean over the boy's shoulder, placed a hand atop the book, and pulled the object down towards the surface of the table.

"I see that your tastes have not changed," Sebastian observed when he caught a glimpse of the text contained inside. He couldn't help but to be at least a little amused by what he was aware of. It placed this otherwise ordinary situation and this supposed literary masterpiece in a separate light when he knew that they had both met the author on multiple occasions. It was both the benefit and curse of immortality; you could remember just about anyone, but their accomplishments started to appear less impressive and more incidental.

Cian pulled the book closer towards him, away from Sebastian's sight. He flicked through a few pages and shut the book. "Considering that it's been less than a day, I'd think that's not surprising," he muttered back.

Sebastian retained a polite smile at the less-than-enthusiastic response. "Then it is my mistake. I should never have expected any less than consistency from you," he stated, encoding the conversation well enough that it seemed perfectly ordinary. There was no reason that anyone else around needed to know, Cian included, that it was the insufferable, dry commentary that Sebastian should have seen coming.

With that, Sebastian took a step away and circled around the table to stand beside the open chair on the other side. He reached towards the chair's back and pulled the seat out. "May I?" he asked, though they both knew that it was nothing but a formality for him to ask. It wasn't as if it would be safe for Cian to tell him to leave.

Cian specifically avoided looking at Sebastian, and instead chose to keep his eye on the window while leaning on his hand. "If there aren't any other pressing matters, I would rather we return home instead. I've had more than enough waiting elsewhere." There was a subtle disingenuousness beneath his words, betraying the meaning of what he said into what he meant. He couldn't have cared less where they were. What he disliked was being forced into taking a certain option.

Sebastian looked out the window to see what would have caught the young master's interest and saw nothing unexpected; streets, cars, stores and people. Surely, the boy knew that, yet he kept watching intently as if it was going to change. Something must have happened while he was away.

He continued to stand in wait for a few more seconds. The longer he stood by, the more it became apparent that the silence wouldn't cease unless he was the one to break it. "Were you not going to inquire as to why I requested you wait elsewhere? Or need I not explain?" he asked, attempting to remain calmly impartial as he asked.

"And here I was under the impression that you'd start the exposition on your own if I left you waiting for long enough," Cian muttered. All the while, he kept staring out that window, not moving any more than was necessary to breathe.

"Your patience is much obliged. If you do not mind, it may be in our better interest to discuss this before we return home." Having reached the understanding that he wasn't going to be given a formal invitation to do so, Sebastian sat down in his chair at the other side of the table. He moved as far inwards as he was able to, and then turned slightly so his back would be facing the other patrons seated in the vicinity. The attempted measure at secrecy was ignored by Cian, which was also in their better interest. By far, the best way to blend in with a crowd was to take no measures to hide whatsoever.

Sebastian determined that there was no one around them who would be within earshot if he spoke quietly. He leaned across the table enough that he could be heard while not going so far as to hunch and, without further delay, began to explain as rationally as possible. "It has come to my attention that there is another supernatural presence within the school. According to multiple sources, a number of incidents occurred yesterday afternoon, and all current evidence is in agreement with this. The behavior it has exhibited thus far indicates that this being is aggressively malicious, but it is either without or otherwise unaware of any specific intended target, though I cannot guarantee that this is accurate. We shall need to be cautious if we are to avoid detection from this point on."

"And we weren't being cautious before?" Cian spoke back, interrupting the summary to highlight a flaw. He leaned further towards the window, swaying sideways until the side of his head nearly brushed against the glass, and stopped. He kept his eye on the window, watching their reflections instead of the scene. It seemed easier to speak that way. "I can verify, they don't know who they're after," Cian said, sounding much more rational and calm than he had been thirty seconds prior.

Sebastian wasn't surprised to hear that, not in the slightest. "What did you encounter?" he asked.

"An accident occurred in the chemistry lab. There wasn't any significant connection between the affected. And yourself?" Cian asked back.

"It is simpler not to explain," Sebastian dismissed. Conveniently for them both, they felt similarly enough about the subject of their experiences throughout the day that they could reach an unspoken agreement not to press that aspect of the subject further than they already had.

An overwhelmed silence fell over the table yet again while Cian sat still, presumably lost in contemplation. Nearly every twist that had occurred thus far was adding to the same odds against them, and the one small victory they had experienced seemed pyrrhic for what it was causing them now. Sebastian had a strong suspicion that it was Holender's tracks that this demonic spirit had traced here. Cian was bright enough that he had to be suspecting the same.

To an undiscerning eye, there were no options in a situation such as this. They had been condemned by the very action that had been necessary to protect them. Cian was being hunted by an enemy that they could not see, attack or kill. Most sensible people would recognize the task as impossible, give up, and accept their fate for what it was. Resignation against such strife was common, if not universal. Sebastian expected better of him than that.

Sebastian let the silence continue for a minute, to give him a few moments to think more concisely before continuing with a deceptively simple inquiry. "In order to cope with this predicament, what course of action do you suggest we take?" he asked, his inflection an odd mixture of grave seriousness and the serene understanding of an assistant patiently awaiting his directions.

"For the time being, none," Cian spoke to the window tepidly.

Uncertain what he was supposed to take from that, Sebastian couldn't pass judgment yet. "Are you absolutely certain that is what you want to do?"

"Certainty is irrelevant when we have nothing to go off of." Cian corrected his position by returning to face forward. He set both of his hands against the surface of the table and stared straight ahead to find his conviction. "Because they have no apparent target, and we have done nothing else to reveal ourselves, it's entirely feasible it is chasing the remnants of Holender's actions. If that is why they arrived, and they determine that he's gone, there's no connection towards his assailant and the school itself. They might stay around to watch for suspicious behavior, but if there are no signs that the ones responsible for Holender are present, they should move onwards. Ideally, a few weeks of havoc and the problem will bypass us."

As satisfying as it was to hear, there was a major flaw in that approach. It fully depended upon the best-case scenario for it to succeed. "And in the case that it does not?"

"Unless you're neglecting to mention something, we don't very well have a choice in the matter, do we?" Cian retorted instantly. He scoffed, either stalling or clearing his throat to prepare before he started providing his actual answer.

"There's little point in offensively scheming against an enemy that we can't identify when we have nothing to target. Anyone that is reckless enough to resort to this type of tactic is impulsive enough that they're bound to slip up. If we can hold our ground for longer than they can their patience, they'll create an opening for us. In the meanwhile, we maintain our defenses while playing our part. If they persist, not locating what they want will be more than enough to provoke them into such a state of mind. Once they do, we will find any further weaknesses and strike where it's most efficient."'

Sebastian nodded his head once in comprehension and agreement. "If they reveal themselves, but they do not have an apparent weakness, what do you propose we do then?"

"That won't happen. Everyone is vulnerable; it's just a matter of knowing where to look."

While staring, Cian couldn't help but to notice Sebastian's reaction as inappropriate to the situation. He was attempting to be serious, and Sebastian was holding back a grin, as if this entire discussion had been nothing more than a test. Cian's stare narrowed in frustration. "If I'm incorrect, tell me now. If there is another way to find them, I need to be aware of it. Contrary to what you might be thinking, this is not a game. We can't afford secrets."

Those last few words didn't help Sebastian from being amused. Of all the people to be condemning secrets between each other, he certainly kept a lot of them. At the instructions of the implied command, he removed the smile from his face before speaking back. "Rest assured, if I had a swifter solution, you would already have been made aware of it. I do not have another answer," he promised.

Cian stared at him with an incredulous expression that quickly turned to disbelief. He shifted back in his chair and smoothly turned his face away. "I still won't take your word for it," he said while starting to gather his belongings to place them in his bag. As far as he was able to see, this discussion of theirs had just about reached its end, and he didn't want to waste any more time.

"That is your decision to make. I cannot stop you," Sebastian conceded. There was no point in fighting against determination that strong, regardless of how severely misplaced it was.

Cian reached across the table to grab his stack of schoolbooks and shoved them inside of his bag. He secured the clasps over the top flap to prevent the items inside from shaking loose. "We're leaving, now. We can pick dinner up on the way," he stated authoritatively. Without leaving any room for discussion about the subject, Cian stood up, placed his coat back on, flung his bag over his shoulder and proceeded down the aisle to the escalator.

What Cian didn't seem to notice about the scene was the last thing that Sebastian paid attention to. Not once did Cian go out of his way to see if Sebastian could assist him. He didn't even bother to check if Sebastian was in the general vicinity. It was in that moment, as he was following multiple steps behind, nearly on his own, when the crucial difference between Ciel and Cian finally started to sink in to Sebastian. Strangely enough, it had little to do with the cat, or his status as a commoner, but rather something else entirely.

In the face of every tragedy, Ciel had held honor in his parent's names. He had motivation, a force to blame, and a network of service staff to help him strive towards it. Throughout the time he had spent alive, there was always a purpose to his actions. That was where the two diverged.

They'd never spoken of it directly, but Sebastian heard enough in the early hours of the morning that he knew Cian's father was alive, well, and the picture of irresponsibility. Cian lived with the understanding that he had been abandoned by someone who could be there, but chose not to. Of course it wasn't easy for him to trust; because it never would be. As far as he had been taught, trust was a weakness that could only be exploited, and he had no one to blame for it, so he clung to independence instead.

When watching him with this new perspective, Sebastian wasn't quite sure what to think now that it had begun to make sense. Fourteen years may have passed for Cian, and the memories before that were gone, but no matter how vast the alterations or developments were, they were one and the same. This was Ciel, fourteen years later, struggling to get by without a purpose to live for or a reason to explain it past having too much dignity to die.

The drive away from the restaurant back towards home was enshrouded in heavy silence. Neither of them had anything to say to the other, at least not pressingly. If it was left to stay like this, the lack of noise was going to make Cian's ears start ringing, so he plugged his iPod into the speakers of the car and started to play music. He couldn't care less what turned on, as long as it wasn't silent, so he set it on shuffle and let it go. He released a shallow, elongated sigh while beginning to wonder if it would have been worth the effort to fall asleep for the remaining twenty minutes of the drive there or not.

His eye had barely managed to start fluttering shut when he noticed something peculiar on the other side of the car. Sebastian wasn't watching the roads with as much meticulousness as a person was supposed to; at least half of his attention was currently directed towards Cian. It was supposed to be Sebastian's duty to watch over him, so it made sense up to a point, but in spite of the logic behind it, Cian couldn't help but notice that there was something unsettling about the manner in which he was doing so today. Ordinarily, there would have been the slightest hint of a mischievous grin of refined superiority, but this stare lacked any indication of outward positivity. If anything, he looked somewhat downtrodden, like something had gone wrong.

If it lasted for much longer than this, it was going to drive Cian mad. In order to avoid that possibly enjoyable but probably unfortunate repercussion, he decided to embrace an alternative option and actually do something about it; ask. In spite of his intent, Cian couldn't bring himself to use the question he intended, so he settled for whatever dribbled out in time. "Is there a problem with this song?"

Sebastian turned his head sideways far enough to look directly back at Cian for a brief moment. As soon as he had been able to note his expression directly, he turned back ahead to face the general direction of the road, no longer staring. "No, there is not," he stated back, confirming what Cian expected he was going to hear in just about the same tone as he anticipated he was going to hear it.

Another moment of silence began to settle between them. Cian shifted around in his seat in order to get a better view of the disinteresting scenery. Sebastian returned his eyes to the nearly empty, winding roads ahead, which he found to be equally enthralling. It hadn't been that uncomfortable before, but the abrupt end to that exchange turned an otherwise ordinary situation very awkward. If they were both left to persist the way they were inclined, a rift of building misunderstandings between them, this could easily become commonplace.

He should probably say something, shouldn't he?

"I believe I may have heard this song on a few occasions before. Who is it by?" Sebastian asked. After at least thirty seconds of filtering through his mind, the only thing he had managed to latch onto with any form of hope whatsoever was a topic so basic that it wasn't so much a conversation starter as it was a random trivia question.

Cian briefly turned his head away from the window to look towards the other side of the car. He shifted his eye towards Sebastian, his expression laden with skepticism. "You were around to remember roller disco, and yet you've never heard of Queen?" he asked disbelievingly and unenthusiastically, never once pausing for long enough to give a direct stare.

"I believe I have heard it on a few prior occasions. I just never felt the need to go out of my way to monitor that portion of popular culture, so no, I have not," Sebastian stated back. He might have been explaining himself. He also might have been lying for the purpose of not making it obvious that he intended to get something out of this conversation. If it was the latter, he was doing an outstanding job at concealing what that something could be, because Cian couldn't tell how feigning ignorance on a subject like this would create any sort of benefit whatsoever.

With the question answered, Cian turned his head back towards the window. Regardless of the intent behind it, the matter seemed to be settled, so there wasn't a need for him to continue paying attention to the driver. This came as a relief, because throughout the entire conversation, Sebastian had continued to examine him with this strangely perplexed, almost nauseous tilt to his usually limited range of emotions that it was making Cian increasingly uncomfortable.

Sebastian, however, wasn't prepared to let the conversation end on such a negative note, so he continued on with the previous subject in the most realistic way he could think of. "Pardon me if the answer is supposed to be obvious, but seeing as you are far more acquainted with the source work than I... Who exactly are Moey and Chandon?"

A moment of silence ensued as Cian debated with himself whether or not he had just imagined Sebastian asking that question. His iPod slipped through the crevices of his fingers. He pulled both of his hands up towards his face, hiding behind them as he specifically avoided looking at the demon for an entirely newfound reason. It hadn't been in his imagination or a crazy dream; he had honestly just heard Sebastian say, in all seriousness, something that proved how truthful his previous claim had been. He really couldn't be familiar with the song.

Cian shifted one hand towards his forehead, rubbing the surface of the left side of his face while he attempted not to laugh aloud. A few short puffs of suppressed laughter escaped through his nose. Suddenly, the comparison which had been unwillingly drawn made him feel as if he understood Sebastian a whole lot more.

In the inverse, Sebastian was left with the equally distinctive impression that there were a lot of things he had yet to figure out about human culture, and more influentially to his concerns, this boy. There was a slim chance that this was retribution, that Cian specifically found it funny to watch him stumble over his words, but he didn't think that was the case. Sebastian wasn't particularly pleased by what caused the reaction, yet at the same time, he couldn't help but to keep watching over a sight this rare.

Unintentional as it may have been, the understanding that he had managed to renew his sense of conviction. When had this begun to appear as if it was a hopeless situation when it was really an opportunity? He wasn't going to repeat the same mistake by allowing someone else to take such an interesting subject away from him. If that meant eradicating an entire army of his peers, then so be it. It was more interesting that way. After all, this made for a new experience. Until a few weeks ago, he'd never had the opportunity to fix a mistake.


	12. Disruption

Chapter XII: Disruption

The first clue there was something amiss was the navy blue hybrid parked in the driveway. There was no denying that it was an abnormal sight. It wasn't his father's, and a neighbor would have parked in the street, so the car had to belong to a visitor. The question was- who could they possibly be visiting?

Cian came to a sudden stop halfway down the sidewalk, causing Sebastian to pause beside him as well. He and Sebastian had both been in the process of walking to the house from around the corner. It wasn't exactly a viable option for Sebastian to pull into the driveway and make his presence obvious when the rest of the neighborhood was watching. They were too cautious to use that space just in case his father ever did come home; a precaution which may or may not have worked in their favor depending on who else had occupied the spot.

As they stood in place, overlooking this strange sight, Sebastian's eyes fixated on Cian attentively, searching over his expression for any sign of an idea as to why this was happening. A few seconds later, Cian's eye shifted enough to notice this. His stare narrowed in a combination of frustration and disapproval.

"I take it you don't have a friend who decided to stop by?" Cian asked in a near monotone, most likely sarcastic, though his delivery made it a challenge to be sure.

Sebastian shook his head. "I do not," he answered simply, attentive to the problem for what he suspected was the same reason that his young master was so troubled by it. It was only a matter of time until they were confronted with another demon again. However, no demon would ever approach in such a way as this; it was completely impractical, not to mention obvious. "Does it look familiar to you?"

Cian's stare didn't break away from Sebastian. "Not exactly," he answered with uncertainty, still trying to think of a reason.

"Would any acquaintances of yours visit without informing you ahead of time?"

"Also no," Cian answered so swiftly he almost cut off the last syllable of Sebastian's sentence when he replied. He took a step backwards, crossed his arms and examined the house again, trying to decide what the most rational thing to do was. There was a light turned on inside, so there had to be something or someone in there.

Sebastian extended a hand towards Cian's shoulder and lightly grazed it to get the boy's attention. Cian reflexively jolted towards him. Now that he knew the words wouldn't go to waste, he spoke. "I can knock while you wait elsewhere. If someone is present and there is a problem, I can claim to be at the wrong house and leave. Would this be acceptable?" he suggested.

"I suppose," Cian answered, still uncertain. It may not have been the most elaborate of plans, but it was more productive than standing here staring at the front door.

The two of them approached nonchalantly, walking the rest of the way up the street. Cian stopped off halfway up the driveway and ducked down behind the car. He crouched down with the top of his head hidden just below the bottom edge of the nearest window, ready to peek while still far enough out of sight not to be instantly noticeable from the other side. Once Cian was successfully hidden, Sebastian finished approaching the front door, pressed the doorbell, and waited.

And waited.

And just when he thought he'd done enough waiting, he waited a little bit more.

Sebastian stared at the door, examining it. The doorbell wasn't broken, but no one was responding. It was starting to look like nobody was in the house after all. There was a chance that Cian had turned that light on this morning and had just forgotten about it in the rush to leave for school.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder. He noticed that Cian had started to peek up from behind the car as well. There was a second when their eyes met across the driveway. The moment that it happened, Cian immediately ducked down again.

With nowhere else to examine at the moment, Cian looked down through the bottom of the window to see what was inside, primarily out of boredom with just a twinge of motivating curiosity. The floor was littered with half-empty bottles of soda, discarded napkins and wrinkled magazines. Blankets were piled across the back shelf, CDs tossed about carelessly, wrappers were stuck in crevices he didn't even know were in a car, and there was an open map on the dashboard. Even for a slob, this was a disaster area. They had to have travelled a long way in order for it to get this bad, he thought with disdain, instantly dismissing the observation. He blinked. Wait a second; that might have some merit.

Cian looked closer at the papers on the dashboard. He recognized the text on the ticket stub. There was a pass to board the ferry stuck towards the front window. He then checked the rearview mirror. Sure enough, there was a dolphin charm dangling off of the mount, right where he expected it would be. "Wonderful," he mumbled, fighting off a sigh. On the upside, he could guarantee that, whatever they had to fear from this precarious problem, in no way did it involve a demon. On the downside, he really did know what was about to happen.

He started to pull himself up by the side of the door, so he could peek beyond the window, get Sebastian's attention and warn him. He was a moment away from speaking when he stopped moving. The color in his skin temporarily flushed from his face. It was too late to stop, now.

Unaware of what was happening a few yards away, Sebastian had set his key in to open up the door. He was about to twist the door to let them both in when the handle slipped from his grip, pulled away from the other side. In mild surprise, Sebastian's attention was drawn towards where the door previously had been, and into the sight of something that he could honestly say he hadn't expected.

There was a teenage girl staring back at him. Her hair was two-toned, the top layer a dark brown while the bottom layer was a shocking shade of red. It was misleadingly done up in short pigtails that usually belonged on a child, but she was clearly much older than Cian. Sebastian didn't know what to say. From the looks of the blank stare and gaping mouth he received in return, this girl didn't know what she was supposed to do either.

Ten seconds passed in utter silence. Her initial, greeting smile stayed put, but her eyes widened. Slowly, she turned her head away, so she could face the hallway instead of the doorway. "Uh, mom, I was kidding about that, really! You didn't need to call a lawyer!" she shouted loudly enough that Cian still heard her clearly from the other side of the driveway.

She turned back to Sebastian, set her hands into the pocket of her hoodie, tilted her head slightly and smiled. "I'm sorry you had to come out all this way for nothing. Sometimes my mother just doesn't know how to take a joke! She's kind of uselessly oblivious, but trust me we're fine," she explained in an attempt at a friendly apology and waved her hand rapidly to try and dismiss Sebastian before he had the chance to say a word for himself.

"Young miss, I assure you I am not a," he tried to explain. In the time that it had taken him to start speaking, he had lost her attention entirely. One look across the driveway was all it took for her to notice a certain someone else standing behind her mother's car, watching them from a distance. Her face lit up instantly.

"Key!" She exclaimed in adoring excitement as she shoved her way past a notably startled Sebastian to run out into the driveway.

Cian tried to find cover back behind the car, but by then she was running towards him. He circled around the other side of the car in an effort to escape to the backyard. She was already standing behind him before he had the chance to make it past the front headlight, forcing him to bring his attempts to a halt and concede to whatever this was going to be. He adjusted the strap on his messenger bag while he moved to stand up straight and specifically avoided looking towards his cousin. "I'm not responding to that," he told her, speaking to and looking at the siding of the house.

"It's just been so long since I've had the chance to say that. When I see you so rarely, it doesn't matter, you'll always be darling little Key," she teased lightly. Such simple comments could get such a rise out of him that it was impossible not to at least nudge him a little bit.

"I don't even pronounce it that way. It's Sea-ann, with the C spoken as an S," he insisted.

"Your name is supposed to be spelled with a 'k'. It's Key-n, just like the alternative band,… but it's your name so I guess you can claim it's whatever you want it to be," she shrugged. As much as it bugged her to wonder why he insisted on using an incorrect pronunciation, it wasn't worth fixating on when there were so many other things she could ask about instead.

"Now that I have you speaking, what took you so long to get home? I didn't think you were in any clubs, so what were you so occupied with? As long as you weren't avoiding me, you can tell me. I can keep a secret," she leaned towards him and whispered the question behind a raised hand. It was pointless to do so when they weren't being watched by anyone who could hear them, and even more so when one considered that the gesture was much more obvious than talking was.

"I was at the bookstore, finishing my homework. I would have come home, had I known you were arriving," he answered with bored, blatant honesty. He had plenty of secrets to keep, but his general location wasn't one of them.

She looked somewhat unimpressed. "I did tell you to lie, but couldn't you have done it more convincingly? There's no way you weren't aware we were coming in this afternoon. Mom's been talking to your dad about it for weeks. Why else would you stop at a bookstore to do that when you could do it at home?" she asked. Her question was met with an increasingly apathetic stare. She had spent enough time around Cian growing up to recognize that as a genuine, albeit subtle, display of incredulous curiosity. Her enthusiasm diminished accordingly.

"Oh, so, you really don't know. How do you not know when this is supposed to be your house? That's weird… Anyway, your dad's out of town for a work conference in Vancouver, so he asked my mom to drive down, and I came along because I needed to look at university campuses anyway if I don't want to stay at home, and there aren't that many choices for pre-med schools. I just assumed something like that would come up before we got here," she explained.

"I suppose it must have slipped his mind," Cian tried to close the subject off by walking away. He didn't want to be scrutinized about that for any longer than was necessary. He briskly strolled past her, up to the front door, and came to a pause a step or so behind Sebastian. As he passed by, he shot the demon as brief of a look as he could manage while still trying to express the moments' urgency. If this man ever wanted to be of use to him in a way that didn't involve a matter of life and death, this was the ideal moment for him to do so by getting him out of this conversation, and he had better think fast.

As was the natural movement if she wanted to keep the conversation going, Cian's cousin followed behind him. She came to a stop at the same point, and was left staring back at her original point of focus. Within an instant, that slightly stunned and speechless expression returned, albeit far more subtle than it had been the last time. Cian broke the silence by tapping his foot against the bottom of the door, cuing Sebastian to open it back up for him and let him inside. Sebastian held the door open while Cian strolled inside. He was halfway through the door frame when she finally spoke up.

"So, who the heck are you?" she asked, her attention back on Sebastian. No matter which way she turned the situation, she couldn't figure out why in the world a well-polished man in a suit was still standing in front of her uncle's house.

Sebastian put on his most charming smile and lied as honestly as possible. "My name is Sebastian Michaelis. I am Cian's teacher."

"A, teacher?" she asked, somewhat uncertain that it made sense. He was dressed well enough that she guessed she could see it, but his appearance wasn't the problem so much as the circumstance was. She paused for a moment to think it over before speaking up again. "If that's the case, why are you at your student's house, at six thirty in the evening?"

"It was late. I merely wanted to see to it that he returned home safely," Sebastian explained.

"But wasn't he at the bookstore?" she asked.

"I was there as well, assisting him with his assignment. He had asked me to help," he lied as seamlessly as he could manage. It was a stretch to claim that Cian was the type of student to require help from an academic standpoint, but it was the best he had to go with on such short notice.

She set her hand under her chin thoughtfully while she considered whether or not that was actually true. "That's an awful lot of trouble for you to go through. Why didn't you just stay at the school?"

"The janitorial staff needed to access the rooms. It would have been too much of a disturbance for them if we stayed longer."

"Oh, really?" Her expression gentled as a wave of understanding came over her, and the traces of an amused smile appeared to replace it. "He isn't being a bother, is he? Don't let him cause you so much trouble. There must be somewhere else that you would rather be than sitting around trying to make him listen," she joked gently, possibly in an attempt to be as polite as possible to make up for her earlier behavior.

"I had needed to purchase a few new reference materials as well, so it was no trouble," Sebastian pardoned, not going to argue when the turn of events was to his benefit. "If you do not mind, now that I know he is safely home, I shall take my leave," he stepped away from the door to excuse himself temporarily from the scene. With the cover he had used, leaving to observe from the outside was the most he expected to do. It would make more sense this way. That he was leaving Cian to deal with his family was more of a side-benefit. It wasn't his job to entertain them anymore. After all, right now he was a teacher, not a butler.

It was at that moment, just before he had the opportunity to step away, when an older woman rushed out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and appeared in the front hallway. "Keane, it's been so long since I've seen you! Dinner'll be ready in a minute, so you can come inside after you give me a hug and," her excited shouting was brought to an abrupt halt in much the same way as her daughters' had. Needless to mention, this wasn't quite the sight she'd expected to find, either.

She pointed towards Sebastian and looked towards her daughter. "Who is this?"

"Mr. Michaelis. He's Cian's teacher, from down at St. Augustine's. He was just dropping him off after class," her daughter explained.

"Michaelis?" she questioned back. All of the sudden, for fairly obvious reasons, she was embarrassed by the state she was in. She had been in such a rush to get to the door that her mascara was smudged, and her hair was a mess. The one thing she could take comfort in was the fact that she no longer needed blush.

Sebastian dipped his head down in a shallow bow that wasn't too over the top of a gesture to be out of place, or so he thought, at least. "It is a pleasure to have met you, miss. I would not wish to intrude on your meal, so I will leave you all be," he stated, trying to excuse himself as smoothly as possible.

"Oh, don't bother with that! My name's Amelia," she introduced herself, her voice squeaking for a second because of the rise in her nerves. They settled quickly by finding another outlet in the form of babbling and a trembling smile. "And since I'm betting she forgot, this is my daughter, Evangeline. There's no need to, or, don't feel like you have to go. It'd be nice to hear how Keane's doing in class, and I made extra in case someone else showed up, so there's plenty of food. I'm sure nobody would mind!" she offered, nervous enough to twitch while speaking and yet somehow abrasive enough to speak on everyone else's behalves as well as her own.

Before Sebastian had so much as a second to reply, Amelia had already latched onto his hand and started leading him inside. It was remarkable how one woman was able to become so pushy so quickly. However, in spite of how annoying it was going to be, it was better to stay as close to Cian as possible, so he'd take the development in stride and entertain her for the time being. Of all the problems in the world, there were far worse to face than an overly enthusiastic middle-aged woman. He was partially responsible for many of those worse things. He would know.

As Amelia started chattering on incessantly about whatever subjects came to mind, taking full advantage of the new ear beside her, Cian stepped the rest of the way inside the house and stared towards the wall in a moment of contemplation. It was so odd for this place to be loud. It may not have been threatening, but it wasn't exactly putting him at ease. The commotion around him just didn't feel right.

He didn't have the chance to dwell on this subject for very long. A second later, with as much organization as she was capable of, Amelia yelled for everyone else to come to the dining room to eat dinner.

The table was set for four. A few candles were lit as the centerpiece. It was obvious she tried, but there was something rancid emanating from the charcoaled stuffed peppers. If cooking was a genetic gift, it was one that didn't run in their family. The difference between Cian and his aunt was that, after his failed attempt at baking, he recognized his weakness. She, on the other hand, failed to realize she had done anything wrong.

Amelia led the table through saying grace before the meal, which Cian couldn't help but think invoked a twinge of situational irony. He spoke through the words without bothering to contemplate their meaning any further, took a piece of lasagna without sauce and picked at the edge with his fork. The noodle didn't break; it was too hard. He wedged the fork down, trying to maintain his manners by at least pretending he wanted to eat this. His brief attempt at concentrating was interrupted by a nudge against the leg of his chair.

Cian took his knife from his silverware to try and cut through the lasagna, ignoring it outright as an attempt at discouraging it which didn't work. Evangeline did it again. When he didn't look, she tried a third time, and accidentally kicked his leg instead. That time, he looked, and he wasn't pleased with what he saw. She tried to smile back at him, her forehead furrowed in guilt. She shifted her chair until she was closer to him and leaned the rest of the way across the table to whisper. "I'm sorry. In my mind that was aimed a lot better, and I couldn't see your feet from here."

Cian held his knife with the sharpened edge pointing towards her for a moment longer, if only for effect, while he glowered back. "That was not my foot."

"Which proves my point, somewhat. Oh, forget that, there's something far more important to discuss," she shrugged it off, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore that Cian didn't look like he wanted to speak at all at the moment. "After all, look who has their first crush," she taunted playfully.

This time, it was Cian's turn to blankly stare at her with minimal understanding. It took him a few seconds to fathom what she even meant by that. When the idea finally clicked, his expression warped with disgust. "What?" he sputtered in disbelief.

"Don't be so flustered, I think it's adorable. Just don't let anybody take advantage of you or I'll have to beat them up," she teased, whispering softly enough that it wouldn't be audible from the other side of the table.

As tended to be the case with him and being teased, Cian was less than amused. He shifted his eye away from Evangeline, appalled yet somehow unenthusiastic at the same time. "You are easily the most delusional person I've ever met," he muttered.

This response was ambiguous enough to make her keep going. "It's nothing that you should be embarrassed about; tons of people get crushes on their teachers. It's completely normal. Not to mention, you've got great taste. I mean, why else would someone like you ever need to ask for help with homework?"

Cian twisted his fork and stabbed up a small bite of food. He raised it to his mouth and didn't once bother to look back at Evangeline. "Taking your brother into account, that means quite a lot," he continued his previous sentence, ignoring that she'd even spoken.

Evangeline slouched down in her seat to hide from the other side of the table behind the nearest serving bowls. "Don't you realize that denying it is just going to encourage me? Denial is a classic sign."

"Astounding how that sign also means no," he remarked between bites, deadpan as ever. It was enough to bring her to a reluctant stop, at least for a few seconds. There wasn't much she could say to argue with that.

Evangeline looked back across the table. The sight of it was enough to make her look back down at her food in embarrassment. Her mom wasn't nearly as subtle as she thought she was, and it was uncomfortable to watch her trying to flirt with some guy who looked half her age. It may not have been so annoying if it wasn't a reoccurring pattern with her. Instead of being cute, it just came across as desperate. "It looks like my mom agrees with your taste, even if you don't," Evangeline mumbled.

In a way, it was impressive how the most glaring problem with Evangeline's conclusion had evaded her so completely. Cian's eyelid lowered, disguising a twitch while he maintained his focal point of looking anywhere else other than at her. Since when had they reached the conclusion that he was attracted to men, and why had he been given no part in this discussion? At first, he meant the question to be a rhetorical aside in his head, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that was a completely legitimate question, so he decided to ask.

"What makes you think I would be interested in," he stopped halfway through the question when he caught a glimpse of the other side of the table, which served as an effective reminder of exactly where this conversation was taking place, "watching Project Runway." The moment he'd spoken, he wished he would have chosen another euphemism. He actually had watched that show. Of course, there was no reason she needed to know that.

Evangeline mirrored his confusion, albeit in a far more straightforwardly obvious way. She tilted her head to one side, squinted her eyes, and stared at him. "Do you have any sense of self-awareness at all? It's about as clear as the sky on a sunny, cloudless day when it just finished raining."

Once again, Cian was astounded by her audacity, and he wasn't even sure if he should be offended by it or just perplexed. "Do you even think about the words that are about to protrude from your mouth, or do you just let them trickle out and worry about it later?" he asked in a near-monotone, refraining from showing his real emotion on the subject through force of will, though there may have been a small twitch in his eyebrow at some point.

Evangeline stuck close enough to Cian's side that she could whisper right back to him. "Come on, you know I'm right. Why else would you be getting so defensive if it wasn't at least a little personal?"

"…Because you're making a blatant assumption?"

"I mean, it's not like it matters to me one way or the other. I just want you to know you don't need to keep any secrets from me if you don't want to. Your family, so I'll always care, no matter what you do or don't like. You know, like that song in the musical with all the puppets?" she meant what she was saying to come across as heartfelt and genuine. For a moment, it had been on the verge of it, but the summarizing statement didn't really help her case.

"If it matters so little to you, then why are you so obsessed with discovering an answer?" The deep hatred within the glare he directed at her was enough to relay the underlying messages. Subtlety was often wasted on her, but in this case, she could take the hint.

Evangeline sighed in annoyance with the situation as a whole. She took a moment to recollect, and decided to try again. "Okay, I'm sorry. I won't assume that you like Project Runway or Drag Race or Queer as Folk or, any programs that could be associated with, well, we both get the point on this one."

"That last one doesn't even count as a euphemism anymore," Cian muttered, still bitter.

"It's short notice. Give my euphemism-making ability some slack," Evangeline whispered back. She received no reply.

The ensuing silence started to get discomforting enough that Evangeline looked across the table to the other two people sitting there. Nothing had changed, not even the amount of food on their plates. Sebastian hadn't touched anything, and her mother was just staring at him and chatting away. Amelia's mouth could hardly flap enough times to finish the syllables, from the looks of it. The experience of watching them was almost painful, so Evangeline rushed through her food to empty her plate. A minute or so later, she turned back towards Cian to try again.

"So, Key. I mean, Cian," she corrected herself when she caught the mistake, though it was already too late to avoid a brief disapproving glance before she continued. "You finished your homework, right? Let's play a game after dinner. I brought my system with me, so I can hook it up in a snap. We can marathon through a multiplayer and stay up all night, just like we used to! It'll be a lot of fun, way more than sitting around at a table, and if we leave now mom can't ask us to do the dishes," she eagerly tried to coerce him.

With three well-placed words, he was able to dismantle that spark of hope in record time. "I have school." From what Cian could recall, those attempts at spending the entire night awake typically ended in her collapsed across the ground in whatever room she had stored them in at an hour much too late to go to bed when he had to be up by six in the morning. As much as he relished the opportunity to avoid further conversation, it wouldn't work out well.

This less-than-optimistic response wasn't the type of reply that Evangeline wanted to accept. She knew she made dinner even more uncomfortable than it already had been, and she wanted to fix it. "That's such a drag. Can't you just skip it? Pretend to go get sick so your teacher sees and then don't go in tomorrow," she pleaded with him.

Oh, if only it was that easy. Cian wanted to accept for reasons she couldn't even fathom, but circumstantially, it just wasn't an option. "I've already missed a day this week. Another one will put me behind."

"As if you ever get behind on schoolwork?" she asked, hesitant to think someone as naturally intelligent as him would have even the slightest bit of difficulty with academics.

"Which would no longer be the case if I started missing school without reason," he lied.

"Can't you just go to bed really late, take a short nap, and go to school partway through the day? One or two classes, that wouldn't do too much damage, and if it would your GPA's pretty much screwed anyway, what with how often you really do get sick. At least stay for a few hours, I can't even remember the last time I had the chance to beat someone who was halfway decent," she persisted. Her pleading would have been coming close to frustrating if he didn't want to hear her out.

As it were, when the alternative was to sit around this table catching traces of his aunt trying to pry into his school life as if he wasn't even at the table, it was clear which option he'd rather face. Sebastian could handle the joy that was his Aunt Amelia on his own. Cian shook his head, set his silverware on top of his plate, and removed it from the table while he stood up to dismiss himself. "Excuse me," he spoke to the table, announcing his departure rather than requesting it, so he couldn't be told no.

Evangeline grinned widely at the unspoken agreement. As far as she was concerned, that move was more of a positive response than any 'yes' could ever be. She passed her empty plate and utensils over her shoulder to Cian while he passed by. "Can you take these for me?" she asked after she had already been waving the plate in expectation, making it less of an inquiry for a favor and more of a demand. Cian didn't take them. The sink was no more than fifteen steps from the table; she could do it herself.

Annoying as his refusal was, Evangeline was able to take it in stride as a gentle form of payback. She followed suit in making their quick escape from the table, and spared one passing glance back towards her mother and Sebastian before she left the room. She hadn't seen her mom look that happy in years. It freaked her out. On the upside, it meant an almost complete guarantee that, for the next however many hours he stayed, she'd go completely undisturbed. She still shuddered when she was out of view, imagining what turn the idle chatter might take now that there wasn't an audience for it, and instantly reaching the conclusion that she would be better off for not knowing. This sense of disgust translated into a rush to flee the scene as swiftly as possible.

Evangeline cut in front of Cian, beating him to the sink in the process. She dropped her dishes into the sink with a careless clank, waved a hand, and darted through the doorway that would take her to the living room. "Come on, there's no reason for us to be standing around here! I swear, I'm gonna thrash you till you have cramps in your thumbs."

As Cian was unwillingly dragged along by his wrist, he couldn't help but display some skepticism about this claim. "Of course," he agreed, unenthused and unconvinced. If her previous record was any indication of what to expect, she'd barely last the time it took her to remember what series of controls she was supposed to use.

Four hours later, he was right.

Evangeline lay sprawled across the floor snoring loudly, her controller tossed just within arm's reach, her head turned away from the TV in the guest room in the basement. She had given the task her all, but after enduring the trip that it took to arrive in town, her eyes weren't able to stay open for any longer than they already had. Halfway through a level, she collapsed to the floor. Thankfully for her, she was sitting on carpet at the time, so the fall didn't hurt her nearly as much as it potentially could have, or so he speculated. She hadn't woken up, so it couldn't be that painful.

Cian took hold of the wire, dragged her controller over to his side, and opened up the menu. He saved the game's progress so she could access it later, stood up, and switched out the disk in the console. It was nearing eleven in the evening, but he wasn't the slightest bit tired. Another hour or two of playing might be enough to make him relax. Maybe then he would be able to feel sleepy, or so was his intention. As the loading screen came into view, it crossed his mind that two weeks ago, he never would have considered playing a game on a weekday. No longer being responsible for all the housework had more influence than he would have expected it to. Even though Sebastian wasn't able to attend to any chores right now, his aunt would take care of it in the meanwhile. While the result left him without much to do, he could very easily adjust to that.

No sooner had the game's menu loaded was this plan interrupted. He heard the door open and snapped his head around to see the source. His aunt was standing in the doorway, looking out at the both of them in the room. Presumably, this meant Sebastian "left" for the evening, and that his last moments of relaxation were being cut short.

"Keane, it's getting late. You really should start getting ready for bed. Don't worry about the room, I'll clean everything up," Amelia called down the stairs. He didn't particularly want to listen, but for the time being, he didn't have a choice. He had his own console in his room which would work just as well, so it wasn't a major sacrifice.

"Alright," Cian agreed. He stood up off the floor and crossed over to the stairs. He made it halfway up the staircase that would lead to the first level of the house when he was brought to an unwilling stop due to someone standing directly in the center of the stairs, blocking his way.

"Make sure you brush your teeth while you're in the bathroom," Amelia reminded.

"Alright."

"Check that everything you'll need for school is ready for you to go in the morning."

"Understood," he confirmed, slightly less patient with her parenting than he had been at the beginning. Cian reminded himself that she meant well and tried to keep his patience in check. She had already blocked his path for half a minute. How much longer could it possibly take for her to realize that she was preventing him from moving?

Blissfully ignorant to the effect this was having on her nephew, she continued. "And don't forget to lay out your clothes for tomorrow. Breakfast should be ready when you get up."

"You can stop." Cian told her as politely as the message could be conveyed. "I'm well aware of how to prepare for a school day. There's no need to strain yourself by creating an outline on by behalf. It's under control."

"Uh, sorry. I guess I just wanted to make sure. I'm so used to this with Eva and Liam that it's second nature. You're such a mature boy," she explained, gushing in the way that an oblivious, admiring relative tended to when dealing with someone they viewed as a child. He caught onto the tone enough to be bothered by it on some level, but didn't take open offense.

"As I've said, it's alright," he assured calmly. "If you don't mind, you're in the pathway. Could you step a-?"

"Oh, oh, sure. Yeah, no problem," she stuttered, dipped her head down to look at the floor, and pressed against the wall to open up a path.

Cian didn't spare a moment in continuing to take his leave. His hand reached out for the doorknob at the top of the stairs. He twisted it open, walked out, and was about to shut it behind him when he was stopped by the sound of her voice.

"Keane? Would you like a ride to school tomorrow? I'll be around, and I have the car and I'll be up already, so it wouldn't be a problem, and you might not want to be walking in this weather if it stays the same."

He set his hand against the edge of the door and looked back down the stairwell at her. She really did mean well, but at the same time, he could see in the way she looked at him that she didn't have the slightest idea who he was. She may have convinced herself that she cared for him, but she didn't know anything more substantial than a polite demeanor and a straight 'A' average. In the end, all this woman had was a partial blood relation, the keys to his home and undiscerning eyes that were easily tricked by the superficial. She was a fool, and it was better that way. That blind ignorance would leave her happy. He had no place changing that.

"There's no need to bother; I prefer the walk." A falsely gentle smile, filled with doubt that he concealed through confidence, set across his face while he watched. "Goodnight, Aunt Amelia. Sleep well."

Before she had the opportunity to reply, he was already gone.

In spite of his implied promise, Cian still wasn't tired. That didn't entitle him to not acting on his word. As per the agreement he'd made, Cian washed up and changed into his pajamas. He didn't waste a moment, rushing through the routine without skipping anything to make it to his room in as little time as he was able.

Cian locked the door behind him upon entering his room. He turned on his fan when he walked past it, grazed over the desk, and opened the closet. Aside from his school clothes and a few casual outfits, it was as empty as one should have generally expected from a closet. Cian glanced the room over once more, checking it over for a glimpse of Sebastian's hiding place. He didn't see him inside, so he moved towards the window and opened up the drapes.

Sure enough, there Sebastian was, standing outside in the pouring rain of the ensuing thunderstorm. If Cian hadn't expected to find Sebastian there, or he hadn't bothered to look and saw him later, the sight may have startled him. In this case, he just stared for a tenth of a second before opening the window to let him in. "Hello," Cian greeted flatly.

"It is a pleasure to see you again as well, Lovell." Sebastian removed his jacket and shoes upon entering the room, to avoid dampening the floor. He brushed a few wrinkles from his shirt while maintaining the well-mannered smile he had been forced to maintain throughout dinner. "I thought it best for me to wait elsewhere, lest someone else make an unfortunate discovery," he explained.

The possibility of Sebastian being found by Amelia or Evangeline if they barged into his room would be far more than unfortunate. No matter how well-articulated an argument they had time to develop, there was truly no believable excuse for Cian to be hiding an adult in his room, and the unbelievable ones wouldn't be of much help. "I'll have to concur," Cian agreed.

"I must say, your Aunt is a very enthusiastic woman."

"And I've got to say you're doing very well with the understatements, but let's be quieter. I'd greatly prefer not having to pretend that I talk to myself."

"Of course," Sebastian agreed. He stood by for a moment longer, until he could confirm that he wouldn't be in Cian's way, and made his way over to hide amongst the clothing. Cian sat down on the edge of his bed, looked towards the ceiling, and scoffed. He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffled his bangs, and tried to let his frustrations slip.. There was no use in getting worked up about that which he didn't have any control over. In a few days, his relatives would be gone and the routine could fall back to the abnormal. If he thought about it more than that, it was only going to stress him out.

"They won't be here for long, Laylie," Cian spoke to the cat-blob-shaped lump in his blankets. He pressed his hand against it to pet it, expecting to hear a squeak. His hand sank straight down to the mattress. The unexpected result caused his expression to drop accordingly. "Laylie?"

He flipped the comforter over to check underneath it, then the sheets, and had no luck. The cat wasn't there. He climbed out of bed and laid down on the floor to look beneath the bed-frame, to similar results. There was nothing to be found. He couldn't see anything.

Under ordinary circumstances, this may not have been that weird. Eulalie liked to migrate around the house constantly. The part that made it so odd was that there was company here. She didn't handle strangers well, to the point where she would always run off to hide in his bed when there were other people in the house. If she wasn't hiding in this room, then where could she have gone off to? He hadn't seen her anywhere else since morning.

Sebastian didn't want to accidentally startle Cian by approaching him, so he stood his ground. "Would you like my assistance with anything?" he inquired, concerned with this sudden development.

Cian didn't seem to hear him very well. His mind was racing a bit too fast from the rise in adrenaline to make any outside conversation register until moments later. "Eulalie, she's not here. I can't find her here," he uttered while trying not to panic about it as much as he was tempted to. Just because she hadn't done this before didn't mean anything had happened. The door to his room might have gotten shut when Amelia first arrived, so there was a chance she was hiding somewhere else. He was just so used to his luck lately that he severely doubted the best-case scenario would apply.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute," Cian ordered. He picked himself up from the ground and immediately darted out into the hallway to check. He snapped his head from one side to the other, taking note of which doors were open and which ones wouldn't have been accessible, and opening them all regardless of their accessibility anyway.

"Eulalie! Eulalie! Come here, girl, come here!" he called out for her, his composed demeanor starting to slip. No matter how he tried to tell himself that it wasn't going to do any good to panic, his heart started beating faster, and his head ran through worst-case ideas that he wanted to insist couldn't be happening, but he also couldn't shake. He couldn't have lost that cat. It wasn't as if he left the door open on a regular basis. The idea sank in further as soon as that sentence coupled with a realization. He may have had the sense not to leave the door open, but he hadn't been the one at home this afternoon.

His chest tightened enough that he wanted to stop moving, which instead made him look faster to disprove it. He frantically started opening cabinets, searched underneath furniture and inside the crevices between objects and the wall. Overhearing the increasing commotion, his aunt came upstairs to investigate and was met with the sight of Cian staring behind the refrigerator in the kitchen.

"What's going on?" she asked, dumbfounded to the point of not knowing what else she could possibly say.

Cian turned around to face her. He took in a deep breath to try and calm down before he tried to form an explanation, to minimal success. To most anyone else, he looked perfectly collected, but he was a moment away from losing the ability to form a coherent thought. If he hadn't spared that moment before he tried to speak, there was a good chance he wouldn't have been able to form a sentence. "Have you seen the cat lately? Such as, when you came in, was she here?" he asked.

Amelia raised an eyebrow, and then bit her bottom lip in thought. "You mean it hasn't come home yet? That's odd, but I'm sure it'll be back by morning. You shouldn't worry too much," she tried to assure him.

That supposed attempt at comfort dismantled his control over his demeanor in a single phrase. Cian rigidly backed away from the fridge, struggling not to shake, and stared her down. "That isn't what I asked. Answer the question, and explain," he spoke with an odd rationality, reining his temper in for the time being. He wouldn't allow himself to be angry until he heard her say it directly.

"Well, it, I saw it, this afternoon. When we got here, it was waiting and when we took our luggage in it walked out into the yard. I just thought it, well, cats have a good sense of direction so it'll make it back easily enough," Amelia tried to defend herself, her confidence depleting through guilt with each word she spoke through her hand. She struggled against the urge to bite at his fingernails.

"You weren't in the right to make that assumption," he stated sternly, bottling up the words he wanted to scream because they wouldn't serve their purpose. While he did realize that it wasn't an intentional error, that didn't make it any less egregious of a lapse in judgment. Nothing he could say would change the circumstance, and nothing she could claim would make him forgive her for it. If he stood here for much longer, he wouldn't be able to maintain this control, so he chose to take his leave by sprinting for the exit.

As he grazed past her, she reached her hand out towards him to try and grab his shoulder. She narrowly missed. "Yes, know. I understand, I was wrong, and this is bad. It's bad, but I'll fix it. We can try to sort it out tomorrow, just try and get some rest. It isn't healthy to be up this late," she shouted across the room to try to plead with him.

Unaffected, Cian didn't bother to look back until he was standing at the opposite end of the nearest wall, preparing to turn a corner. "No. You're free to take whatever action you see fit, but tomorrow's too late. Until you comprehend exactly where you are and what is happening, you have no authority over what decision I make as best," he raised his voice back, his words laden with criticism strong enough that it took a while for her to understand exactly what she was being told.

There was a moment when she was flat-out stunned by the audacity it took to shout at her before she could snap back enough to be mad about it. In that time, Cian had run down the hallway and snatched a flashlight from a side table. He was just about to slip on his trench coat when Amelia arrived in the room after him and shouted for him to stop.

"Don't think you have the right to undermine me over one little mistake! Put the flashlight down right now! Yes, I screwed up, but your father sent me here to keep you from getting into trouble, and if you step out this door I swear I," her frantic attempt at a threat was cut short by a stare.

Cian's expression was blank, enough so that it didn't appear as if he was hearing her speak. In actuality, it was more as if he no longer cared. "Authority requires responsibility. If you want to be respected, you should consider approaching your mistakes without the assumption that ignorance will be sufficient to fix them for you. You're free to do as you wish, but until you gain some sense you don't get to choose for me."

"Yes, I do! I'm the adult here, and that isn't your choice to make!" she shouted at him in protest. By this point, she was outraged enough by how he was disrespecting her that she had stopped feeling guilty about what had caused this fight in the first place.

Every moment she spent wasting her voice on meaningless complaints, Cian casually continued in his preparations to leave. In the time it took her to process his criticism, he had already grabbed his keys, put on his shoes, and unlocked the door.

The sound of the chain falling beside the door brought Amelia's attention back where it belonged. She wasted a second just staring, at an utter loss as to how she was supposed to take control when he was making such a blatant display out of not listening to her. Her attempt at words snagged in her throat along with a stutter before she was finally able to force them out. "Keane Adrian Lovell, if you leave this house, I'm going to call the police, and you can consider yourself grounded indefinitely! I promise we'll do something, but not at night and certainly not right now!"

Cian turned his head over his shoulder and stared her down through a narrowed eye. "My name is Cian. If you want my attention, get it correct."

He flicked his thumb across the side of the flashlight, turning it on, and knocked his other hand against the door to push it open. Rain poured down in sheets outside, and the sky illuminated with the threatening sparks of lightning, but it didn't matter. No matter what argument was provided to the contrary, he knew that there wasn't another choice he could keep in clear conscience. There was a time for strategy and a time for action, and this was the latter.

He took a step backwards, leaving the house while not breaking away from her sight in an unflinching show of insubordination. At this moment, it didn't matter to him who this woman was related to, or how she was going to speak of this incident later. All that he saw was an incompetent person who had made a glaringly obvious mistake that he had to go fix.

Amelia ran towards Cian to grab him before he could flee. He seamlessly took a few steps backwards down the driveway, leaving the shelter of the awning to stand out of reach in the pounding downpour. She, not being dressed for the weather, was reluctant to chase him any further than the doorway. That one moment of hesitation was more than opportunity enough.

"By the way, the cat, it is a she," he snapped back to her.

While she was still left standing by the doorframe, Cian pointed his flashlight out into the street and sprinted down the driveway. By the time a retort had come to Amelia's mind, it was much too late to speak back; he had already ran out of sight. "Dear God, just please let him be safe when he gets back here," she spoke to the sky. As always, it didn't answer back. She was soon after struck with the realization that perhaps that was her fault as well. After everything she'd said and done to lead up to this, she wouldn't chase him. The narrative would like to point out at this moment that this woman was not a witch or a creature of fire. The rain may have given her a chill, but it wouldn't have harmed her. She was choosing not to leave.

Sebastian stood beside the closed window, holding back the curtains to observe as well as he could. The view from the bedroom window may not have been fully comprehensive, but it was more than wide enough to show him what had occurred. When coupled with the shouting that he couldn't help but to overhear, the image was plenty clear. The accompanying visual of Cian running out into the downpour had a purpose and a context. What it lacked was thought.

"Is this the meaning of momentarily nowadays?" Sebastian remarked to himself. In the rush of the moment, his presence had been seemingly forgotten, though he could hardly claim this was without good reason.

According to the account they had been provided, it had been nearly half a day since Eulalie left the house. There was no guarantee that she would be within the general vicinity, and if so, in such a location that would allow her to be found. He had no doubt that the boy understood this, yet he'd charged out chasing an unlikely possibility with nothing but a flashlight and a jacket over his pajamas, directly against all logic. Sebastian wanted to wonder why this particular cat was so important to the young master, but he already had some idea. She was the closest thing he had to what he considered true, direct family, and because of that, the closest thing he had to a weakness. This had the potential to become very problematic.


	13. Resurgence

Chapter XIII:  Resurgence

The moment that Sebastian saw his young master running out unaccompanied into the middle of the night, he knew what had to be done. It wasn't as if the boy would be safe out there on his own. Someone had to go and find him—and given the severely limited number of trustworthy people in the vicinity that someone would need to be Sebastian.

He retrieved a few potentially useful items from inside the closet and returned to the window to resurvey the situation. By the time he could get another glimpse outside, Cian had already fallen out of sight. Fortunately, it wasn't Cian who Sebastian needed to find; at least not immediately. He would be able to tell if the young master was in any imminent danger, and frankly, he couldn't have made it that far in his condition. In the meanwhile, a charming young lady was in need, and he wasn't one to leave her in harms' way.

Sebastian unlatched the locks set on the window and pulled it open. A sharp breeze gushed through the opening, followed by the booming crack of thunder screaming through the night air. He turned his head from one side to the other, checking to assure himself he wouldn't be noticed by any potential onlookers. Once he was certain he wouldn't be spotted, he climbed through the opening and casually jumped out. The two-level drop between the bedroom window and the ground was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He landed on his feet and nonchalantly opened an umbrella he had snatched on his way outside, blocking the downpour as effectively as possible without defying the standard laws of physics.

It would be counter-productive, not to mention stupid, to walk by the front of the house in a human form while Amelia was still waiting, so Sebastian took his cue and used the backyard as his starting point. An indoor cat that didn't have any familiarity with the outside wouldn't be comfortable enough to wander away from home for long, and once sufficiently startled, was likely to seek out a hiding place. In all likelihood, if Eulalie was safe, she was close to home, so it made for a natural place to start looking.

There were no signs of a living creature in the back garden. Aside from a few worn chairs on the patio, the yard was bare, without so much as a fence blocking the path out. None of the houses nearby had the lights of their back windows on, so Sebastian continued on his way. He glimpsed down the rows of bushes and outdoor furniture placed throughout the neighborhood, all of which appeared to be undisturbed. She had to be closer to the main road.

Sebastian turned, stepped a few houses down, and veered onto the front sidewalk. He arrived on the deserted street to the sight of nothing particularly outstanding. Discerning whether or not she had passed here would be a far more challenging task than it was in a typically untouched environment such as the backyard. The gardens were more expansive, cars were parked in the way, and crevices were built into areas he ordinarily wouldn't have thought twice of. Thoroughly searching those locations one by one would take hours. A less conventional approach appeared to be in order. In the instance where there was no one present to witness, it wouldn't do any harm to employ a non-standard practice. Who could possibly be the wiser to what nobody saw?

Swifter than a human would be able to blink, Sebastian placed his open hand ahead of him with his palm facing upwards. He stood in silence and concentrated on Eulalie while channeling a small portion of the negative emotions he had witnessed and absorbed over the past day into that one patch of air. A misty sphere of fluid, silvery light began to form, spiraling around itself in the closest it could come to a tangible form. The resulting energy had taken upon the polar opposite of Eulalie's spiritual signature, and it would be drawn to her like a magnet.

If souls were a demons' food, then anger and sorrow was their water. Any creature of the world beneath was a gathering point for negativity because it drew to them almost as strongly as they drew towards it. This energy was the root source of any rift or phenomena a demon could cause. Once absorbed, this latent energy could be expelled and manipulated for a variety of purposes through force of their will. Of course, some finesse rarely hurt.

The now fully formed sphere lifted up into the air and bobbed up and down a few times until it finally stabilized, hovering around his chest level a few feet away. It sat perfectly still. He reached out to give it a gentle nudge, which in turn sent it darting off down the street in its chosen direction. It moved too quickly to follow even with a demon's eye, but the tail of dim light it left in its wake formed a direct trail. Sebastian placed his hand back at his side and continued on his way, following it.

The gradually diagonal line led him down the block of houses to the next section of street until it reached its end point on the opposite side of the road. The path faded away as quickly as he could catch the trail, receding into nothingness and leaving no trace that it was ever there. Measuring the time the process took in human units would have been a waste, because the amount of time it took was much too minuscule for it to be witnessed.

He came to a stop halfway up the driveway of a stranger's house. Upon first glance, the area appeared just as unremarkable as any other home, but the remaining trace of a glimmer led partway around the back. Sebastian referenced the windows to assure that nobody would be awake to mistake him for an intruder and slowly crept around to the backyard. He knew she was here somewhere, but awareness of her general location was only half of the battle. In order for this to do him any good, it was necessary to lure her out. Thankfully, he had spent enough time in her presence that he had an educated guess as to what would do the trick, and he was willing to wager on it.

"Laylie, laylie, where are you?" Sebastian called out in a high-pitched voice that was such a drastic change from his normal speaking voice that it wasn't actually his—he was imitating Cian's. If that cat would reply to anyone, it would be her owner.

As he had been hoping, a soft, whining mew called out from the side of the house. Sebastian followed the noise downwards to a halfway overturned recycling container resting against the wall. Eulalie must have snuck in through the crevice between the container and the wall to take shelter. How long she had been in there, he had no way of knowing, but it hardly mattered as long as he could catch her.

Sebastian knelt on the ground. He set the pole of his umbrella between his shoulder and neck to secure it while he reached out with both hands to retrieve the cat. "Now, do not worry, everything shall be alright," he assured her, still using Cian's voice for the sake of keeping her calm.

When he took hold of her, she didn't struggle, but it was just as likely that she was so terrified of the storm that she couldn't bother to try and shoo him away like usual. He positioned Eulalie snugly in his arms and stood back up, stroking his fingers across the small patch of dry fur on her head. She certainly was fortunate that he had the foresight to bring the umbrella. He couldn't have cared much either way, but she would be much more comfortable not getting exposed to the sheets of water that pounded down around them.

"If you have no objections, we best move onwards. There is someone else awaiting you who shall be quite pleased to see you once more," he whispered to her, reverting back to his voice. Eulalie didn't struggle when she heard it. By now, she would have been able to smell that it was him, so the façade didn't matter. In a moment of hope, Sebastian thought that if he was fortunate, perhaps this would place him on better terms with the lady. No sooner did he think this than a heavy sigh escaped him. Earning the affections of dear Eulalie so easily was about as likely as the young master spontaneously deciding not to bother being stand-offish anymore.

Sebastian paced down the gently sloping driveway, following the water towards the main street. He moved slowly so as not to startle her, and set his hand upon her back to keep her as secure as he possibly could. She deserved to be treated as kindly as possible, but it served a dual purpose. It was just as important for him to hold her snugly so she couldn't decide to be frightened of him more than the weather and try to run away. They had somewhere important to be.

Cian sprinted down the streets of the next block over from home. He moved so quickly that his lungs weren't prepared to keep up with the rest of him. It was causing a tightness to form in his throat, or maybe that lump was caused by something else. At the moment, he found it difficult to tell. His pulse raced through his ears, overlapping the sound of the downpour in a haze of white noise. He'd never admit to it, but he couldn't discern much of anything right now; it had all started to blur together along the way.

The longer he stayed out here, desperately trying to find her, the more apparent it became that the task wasn't as simple as calling a name. There wasn't a precedent for this. He didn't know where to start, and without that much, determination fell short. As much as it pained him to so much as acknowledge the possibility that it could happen, he didn't know what to do.

As he ran on, the dim beam of his flashlight was cut short by the waves of rain. Every step was marked by a slosh in his shoes and the chill that accompanied it ran from the soles of his feet up to his scalp. The downpour had drenched his pajamas so thoroughly that the flimsy fabric clung to his skin in every location but his arms, and that was only because of his trench-coat. Next time he decided to charge out into the middle of a storm, he would try to at least button his coat. It was too late to remedy that problem now, so he tried to ignore that as well.

The scenery started to blur into a singular dark mass, which prompted Cian to finally come to a stop beside a street sign on the corner. He panted, taking as much air as he could, not that it helped him much. He shook the flashlight he was holding, to try and prompt it into providing a steady stream of light. It flickered and then cut back to the same dim, distorted stream it had been creating before, giving out to darkness. Of all the times to run out of battery, the stupid thing decided to do it now. He repeated in his head that it wasn't going to do him any good to be upset, so he looked up to better survey his surroundings.

The sky cracked with lightning, and thunder echoed in the distance just a few miles away. The weather was foreboding enough that all he was missing was another of those shadows to flicker by. With how horrible of a day this was turning out to be, he wouldn't have been that surprised to see it happen. What he caught a glimpse of instead appeared to be much more promising. A few houses ahead, in one of the front gardens, a bush had started rustling.

Cian took off towards it. He trampled through the mud, disregarding the squish of his feet as he sank almost an inch deep into the oversaturated ground until he was standing in front of the garden in question. The residual light from the street post wasn't enough to make up for the house appearing dead and abandoned, so he knelt down on the ledge between the end of the grass and the start of the garden and tilted towards his right side to create a better reference point and increase his view. The bush rustled once more.

Cian twisted his wrist to shake the flashlight in one last attempt to make it work, and the dim beam of light appeared, shaking, but present. He adjusted the angle of the beam so he would stand a chance of identifying what might be there. The glimmer of a small reflection passed across the back of the bush. It seemed to be retracting in response to his movements. Presuming this skittishness to affirm his suspicion, he set the flashlight onto the ground and prepared to reach in.

Before he had the opportunity to act on this, he was struck with a wave of doubt. There was something about this situation that no longer seemed quite right. He hadn't directly seen what was hiding in that bush, if there was anything there other than a metal pipe to begin with. To have the search end just as he was about to give up was too ideal of a turning point to blindly trust.

His hands pressed against the soil, sinking in while tension settled. He was just about to regain his natural breathing pattern when an incoming spark bleached a streak of the sky to a blinding white, and faded with a boom less than a second later. It may have been an aspect of his imagination, but he would have sworn that the ground began to shake from the residual force, along with whatever happened to be attached to it. His ears started to ring from the after-effect. When the sound faded, Cian fumbled for the flashlight and pointed what light he had straight inside of the bush to check if there was anything there. The light revealed nothing but a brick wall and a poorly attached rain-gutter.

In a way, this emptiness was as much a relief to him as it was a disappointment. He would have noticed if there was anything threatening back there. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to be even remotely eased by this; in spite of what he saw, he couldn't shake the impression that there was something inherently wrong about this situation, and it didn't have to do with Eulalie being gone. He was able to hear the rain pouring down behind and ahead of him, but he didn't feel it anymore. Instead, it was pouring down in a stream from one specific point in his peripheral vision. Simple reasoning was all it took to know that there was somebody there.

Without sparing another second, Cian snapped his head around and looked over his shoulder towards whatever it might be. He was mentally prepared to discover a severe threat. As a result, what he caught a glimpse of instead managed to be both startling and anticlimactic.

"Sebastian," Cian spoke, replacing fright with disapproval and a sigh, "would it be that much of an imposition for you to provide some sort of signal of identification or something to prove you aren't about to behead me before you spontaneously appear?" For the sake of his dignity, he got over being startled quickly. No matter how much truth there would be to revealing it, there was no way he would allow himself to look this easily frightened when there was no apparent reason for it—but that wouldn't keep him from criticizing the cause.

"Provided the circumstance, I would hardly expect that to have helped. Had I created a noise, the sound would have startled you," Sebastian reasoned back. While he normally would have conceded, this had seemed reasonable to him.

"I recognize your voice well enough. It would have helped," Cian insisted stubbornly, making it apparent that he either didn't agree, or wasn't going to budge based on the principle of not letting Sebastian win.

Sebastian had to wonder if this was the most opportune time to be debating over entrances. The lightning was gradually passing over, and the umbrella he had brought was for the most part sufficient at blocking out the rain, but Cian was still soaking wet and there was the issue of the cat hiding beneath the jacket he was wearing. "Preferably there will not be reason to remember, but I shall keep that in mind," he agreed, not wanting to get drawn astray by an irrelevant discussion like that.

"Alright," upon hearing the agreement he was waiting for, Cian turned back around to the empty garden. He tsked at his own idea to fight the start of a depressed thought, reached into the ground to grab the next-to-useless flashlight up, and shoved it into the pocket of his coat. It was easier to behave as if he was losing his temper than it was to admit to concern, grief or insecurity. If everyone thought this was a problem as simple as getting agitated, they wouldn't bother asking, and he could deal with it alone, or so he intended.

Sebastian had no intention of allowing this plan to work as intended. If he hadn't been so distracted by the initial reprimanding he was forced to receive, he would have tried to avoid this from happening from the beginning. An attempt to bring the gloom and doubt to a halt now would have to suffice, instead.

"Before our discussion can continue, I must administer an apology." Sebastian continued to stand facing Cian and bowed very slightly at the waist while raising an arm forward. "I would offer to assist you back to your feet, but I am unable. Due to a constraint, my hands are currently occupied."

Sebastian bent down enough for them both to be covered beneath the umbrella, and slowly relaxed his shoulder so his coat would slip off from its current resting place and land by draping across his opposite arm. In doing so, he revealed what had been hiding from the rain beneath the jacket by resting in his arm. Safe and dry, but somewhat unwilling to be there, the small gray tabby was nestled against Sebastian's shoulder. Her widened eyes revealed how frightened she was by the setting. The moment that the dim lights of the streets hit her eyes, she let out a squeak and tried to retreat.

Sebastian shifted his arm to hold her more securely, and stroked his finger across the back of her neck. "She has led me to believe that she has missed you direly. Would you care to take her?" he offered.

Cian was aware that a prompt such as that should have made him say something, but he wasn't quite capable of responding when he was so mystified by what had happened. To say that he hadn't expected it was redundant. He wondered how it had happened, how Sebastian could have even known, and every time a question entered his mind, it faded right back out again. He already knew why. It was Sebastian. No further explanation should be necessary. The pessimistic side of this conclusion was that he had very little privacy, but the problem with it paled in comparison to the meaning of this moment. In spite of mistakes and all that panic, Eulalie was safe.

Cian pushed off of the ground and rose to his feet. He extended his hand out towards her. She sniffed it, and then rubbed her cheek across the sides of his fingers affectionately, which beckoned him closer. "It's alright, you're safe now," he assured her gently.

Eulalie instantly started to struggle by pushing off of Sebastian so she could climb onto Cian. Sebastian maintained a steady hold so as not to let her slip away, but she got what she wanted not that long after. She snuggled herself over Cian's shoulder alongside the collar of his jacket, and purred with contentment. In the aftermath of her happiness, both of them were left standing without a specific direction to take next.

They were standing in the middle of someone else's garden. Common sense should have prompted them to move out of the storm, and yet, the only thing Cian could manage to do was look ahead to the ground and try to catch his breath He fumbled through the pockets of his coat for his inhaler, shook it, and took a quick puff. He needed to wait a minute before taking another. Between the rain, the stress, and switching from sitting to standing so quickly, he might be facing a problem. Only now, when he had the chance to take a break could everything else have the opportunity to catch up to him. It was clear this boy was well on the way to make running himself ragged into an art form.

When inhaling a second puff of medicine, Cian stated to sway backwards. He caught himself before he could start to fall. Sebastian approached more closely anyway, following with the umbrella, along with another concern. The sudden motion caused enough of a start that Cian's eye darted straight up to meet Sebastian's, only to lose focus a moment after due to something else he didn't suspect. In the quarter of a second they had been standing beside each other, Sebastian had removed his jacket the rest of the way, and wrapped it over Cian. The difference in their height brought the edges of said jacket a few inches away from dragging across the ground. That wasn't what either of them was noticing.

Sebastian's lingering free hand lifted up to reach Cian's face. He grazed the tip of his finger across his forehead and behind his ear, brushing the tangled mess of hair away from what should be his line of sight. In an act of suspicion that was almost involuntary, Cian's eye followed the motions as closely as he could. He had too many reservations not to be wary, but at the same time, he lacked the will to make him pull away when there was something so strangely comforting about it.

Cian's eye returned to focus, and along with it, perspective followed. They were standing closer than he realized. Up until now, he had only seen artificial attributes and an omen of disaster in that expression. No matter where he viewed it or what was being expressed, those eyes would always appear inhuman. He'd never considered before that the aspects he so despised about the people around him might not extend to those whom technically weren't people.

"In any future instances, I would think it best to reserve your acts of impulse for evenings with more hospitable weather. You are going to make yourself ill, at this rate," Sebastian suggested, his words suave yet entirely natural, as if he wasn't carefully calculating his every word. It was almost darkly melodic, like a lullaby luring him into a sense of security.

With a quick shake, Cian lowered his head, specifically avoiding what was in front of him. He struggled to take in another breath through the pressure in his chest; which he assured himself was the result of his asthma and nothing else. "If you haven't noticed, I think, it's a bit too late to fix that," Cian remarked, putting forth the same sort of snide words with slightly more emphasis to portray his irritation over how obvious he thought this to be.

"That is why I am suggesting that you do not repeat this. The consequences are unpleasant for us both," Sebastian explained back, unflinchingly composed. The only display of open dissatisfaction was a light sigh. "Reasonable as it may have seemed at that moment for you, running out without giving me any explanation or forewarning is to make me fear the worst." He hadn't moved away. Neither of them had.

Another second was enveloped in dead silence. Cian's breathing started to slow as the inhaler began to work, gradually relieving the pressure enough so it wasn't creating further problems. The streets seemed to ring with the sound of the downpour, but it was all background noise. Sebastian started to lean in closer, eliminating space between them that Cian hadn't previously noticed was even there. He knew he could breathe, but there was a twitch through his body that made him want to clutch his chest again. With each passing moment, the tension seemed to rise, until he couldn't bring himself to keep looking away.

He was drawn in just in time to catch a glimpse of the hand reaching towards the edge of the jacket he was resting in. Sebastian pulled the two edges together, to help bundle Cian up more sufficiently. It wouldn't block out any of the water, but the closer it was, the longer the lingering trace of body heat was going to last. Cian could understand the reasoning behind his actions, and yet at the same time he felt as if he had no idea what just happened.

Of course it was just the jacket, and it made perfect sense for Sebastian to be concerned over his being ill. The longer that Cian was stuck dealing with his asthma, the longer he spent being an easy target to the people who might come after to attack him. Heck, if he died in some sort of freak accident it would still have a consequence for Sebastian as soon as someone found the charm left behind.

If Cian was left to make the decision, the silence would have lasted for hours. It was for this reason that Sebastian wasn't able to let it continue, not without at least making a suggestion otherwise. "Your aunt should have calmed down as much as she will by now. I will explain to her why I am accompanying you, if you would like to return home. If not, I suggest you take shelter elsewhere," Sebastian reasoned, creating a prompt that would still leave the options to Cian's decision, even though he knew which of the two he preferred.

The sound of someone speaking was enough to snap Cian out of his apparent trance. He wasn't fully listening until the second sentence, but that was more than enough for him to guess what else must have been said. "If we're fortunate, she may be asleep by now," he whispered.

"I severely doubt that shall be the case."

"I do as well, but. No harm in stating the optimistic," Cian commented, dully sarcastic as usual. He composed himself as much as he was able to in such a short period of time, and turned to face the sidewalk so he could try and remember the way back. "And I suggest that you take these moments to prepare a convincing lie. Passing down the street at precisely the right moment is too suspiciously coincidental for even a div such as her to believe it." He hadn't been watching closely as he ran, but at second glance, he was familiar enough with these homes that he had some idea where he would need to turn in order to arrive at his own.

When Cian took his first step forward, the umbrella over his head remained stationed in the exact same relative position as it had been moments before. Sebastian kept a single step behind as they walked down the sidewalk, quietly on guard. The state of the weather prevented silence from settling in, not that it mattered how much noise they made or didn't make when the streets were so utterly deserted, and getting wet was but a minor inconvenience to him so long as it didn't cause any further problems for Cian. If it became necessary for Sebastian to take any further actions, he was waiting. Thus, he noticed immediately when their pace began to slow down. What he wasn't capable of knowing was why.

"Sebastian?"

There was no need for him to turn his head towards the source of the speech when he was already facing in that direction. His observations didn't reveal anything that appeared to require immediate attention. "Is something troubling you, sir?" he asked, unsure.

Cian turned his head to peek over the side of his shoulder. The side of his cheek grazed against the cat, which was blocking the view of his expression to a marginally distracting extent, but Sebastian just had to ignore how adorable she was since this really wasn't the time to have his eyes wander off. The boy was staring at him so intently that it would have been a sign of disrespect to look away now.

Difficult as it was to see through the veil of clumped, drenched bangs that obscured Cian's view, as he gazed up through his single eye, his gaze faded from its frigid detachment into a momentary, softly pleased stare. There was a pair of words that Cian knew he needed to say. Expressing gratitude was far from his forte. He appeared to be solemn, nearly downtrodden, but it was that same uncertainty that made it appear so genuine when he finally said it. "Thank you."

Sebastian began to smile. The slant to his eyes always appeared to have an underlying mischief to them, but in this case, it was far more subdued, like a lingering thought. For the most part, his expression appeared to be sincerely happy to be shown gratitude. Abnormal as it was, it was also a welcome break from the consistent suspicion he had been shown up to this point, so he hardly minded. Nonetheless, it didn't feel quite right to leave it at that.

Before Cian would have grasped the opportunity to look away, Sebastian set his unoccupied arm over his stomach and bowed slightly over the top of it in respect. "Think nothing of it, sir. It is my duty," he replied, meticulously gracious. "It is only natural that a servant,"

Cian's expression began to drop into disinterest and a lack of enthusiasm towards the all-too-familiar words. He half-heartedly twisted his head to the side, tossing his sopping-wet hair across his face in the process. "-Of Phantomhive would be able to accomplish any bizarrely specific task that suits the setting. The entire country is fully aware of that by now," he interrupted flatly. Those words didn't allow him to maintain a deadpan expression for long.

He very gradually began to turn his eye back in the direction that he had originally intended to watch. A wave of warmth and unease washed over him, paling his complexion as his eye widened and his bottom lip fell agape with a sudden realization that stretched past déjà-vu. Cian had never heard Sebastian say that before, yet he'd finished off the statement as if he'd heard it thousands of times before. He hadn't even consciously intended to speak when the words slipped out, yet they had, as naturally as breathing.

Sebastian wanted to ask what Cian had just said for the sake of hearing it reiterated, but he could tell that wouldn't have helped. That interruption left him utterly stunned. Reincarnated souls were supposed to be severed from their active memories completely, with the only remaining impressions being that of a predisposition towards certain personality traits and a few, faint habits or preferences. According to everything that he had seen thus far, it should have been impossible. Of course, reincarnated souls generally didn't encounter people who they knew in their previous life. They also weren't typically involved in demonic contracts. Pretending there was a precedent for this was a serious mistake.

It was unfair for him to expect the young master to answer a question which he couldn't even begin to guess a proper answer to. Instead, he chose to try and break the silence and potentially oncoming trance by redirecting the conversation back towards its intended purpose.

"There are far more worthwhile places for you to redirect your gratitude," Sebastian summarized, paraphrasing a previous sentence to brush the subject away. Cian was too dazed to notice that it was redundant.

"As you, say," Cian spoke with an odd delay, talking so slowly that those three words sounded like a long sentence. The soft tone of voice was deceptive enough that he almost appeared to not be thinking, when he was truly thinking too much in order to control his tongue. Regardless of the reason for the impression, the cause remained the same. He was overwhelmed to the point of being nauseous and feverish, and being soaked through wasn't helping.

Sebastian offered a hand in order to lead the boy along. Strangely enough, Cian actually accepted it and held on as they tread down the streets he knew so well. It was a good thing that Sebastian didn't bother to speak more than that, because Cian wouldn't have been capable of replying again if he tried. It wasn't just the rain that was causing a flood.

He hadn't an explanation for why, how, or from how vague of an image it created, when it had changed. Most of it was random information he didn't recall how he should have known, or images so faded and distant that they hardly seemed like pictures anymore. All of it was burrowed so far in the back of his head that he had every reason to suspect the memories weren't accurate, but that distance didn't alter the fact that he could still faintly envision people he had never met and places he had never been. There was a curtain drawn over the details that kept it from being perfectly clear, but it was there. He could see the English countryside, a grand manor, the graves and names of people who he had never met, and the days when they had been taken from him. No matter how tainted time had made the memories, they had resurfaced. Somewhere, a part of him still remembered, and it unequivocally knew that Cian Lovell and Ciel Phantomhive were the same person fourteen years apart.


	14. Omen

Chapter XIV: Omen

No matter how far he attempted to open his eyes, everything was covered in a heavy cloak of black. The only clue to his surroundings was the edges of a jagged wall scratching through his clothing into his arms and back, which wasn't especially helpful in identifying where he was and why. He tried to lean out of it, which turned into recoil when another steady shove pinned him back. His neck bent back on reflex, turning the already uncomfortable task of breathing through the heavy, humid air into a major struggle that he was determined not to show. No matter the circumstances, there was no benefit to groveling, and screaming for assistance wasn't an option. His throat had tightened too much for him to manage a scream even if he wanted to.

Voices overlapped one another with a heavy echo, blurring together into an indistinct mass of nothing but malicious intent. His skin seared from the lick of flames that he couldn't perceive. What was left of his clothing was soaked through with scalding liquid that smelled more like alcohol than water, though it was hard to tell through the smoke. He was consumed with the understanding that he had to escape, but his arms were restrained behind his back, and he could barely cough for long enough to take a breath inwards while still maintaining his balance. If he panicked to breathe, the heat from the flames would kill him, and if he stopped breathing, the result was fairly obvious. There had to be an alternative he was overlooking.

With another burst of attempted energy, he tried to snag the restraints against a crevice in the wall to pull them apart. The chains rattled behind him, refusing to budge. The sound of mocking laughter began to pierce into his mind, distantly echoing as if it wasn't in the same room as he was. Startled, he began to take in a sharp breath. In a sudden but anticipated wave, the heat of the smoke ran down his throat. Just as he began to bend forward from cringing, he spotted the flicker of two distant blue lights ahead of him, along with that same, reoccurring Cheshire smile.

The moment that he started to gasp, the force of two hands started to pull down on his lower jaw, forcing it open. He continued to struggle, and the result was so dizzyingly uncomfortable that he could practically feel his throat twisting. If nothing changed, he was going to fall unconscious. Desperate to put up at least some sort of a resistance, he began to slide down the wall far enough that he could press his way up and forward, and then bite down. He was able to create enough of a brace on the ground to start to lift up when his breathing stopped entirely, and the slight source of light turned back into distorted darkness.

Cian awoke to the echo of his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the slightest sliver of early morning sunshine sneaking in through the side of a curtain facing the bed. His right arm had become inexplicably numb. He sat upright, picked the currently useless limb up with his other arm and started to jostle it in an attempt to regain mobility in his hand. In the meanwhile, he turned his head to check the clock on a nearby table. The digital display showed the time as five-ten in the morning. His mind was immediately struck with the complaint that it shouldn't have been allowed to be light outside at five ten in the morning. Still exhausted and far too impatient to deal with being awake before his alarm, he turned over in his bed to lie on the cooler side of the sheets and faced the wall.

A few weeks ago, and a dream that he was able to feel sensations from would have terrified him so much that he would have woken up still trying to scream. Today, his pulse was already calming down to an average, inaudible pace. No matter how disorienting or frightening a prospect it could be at first to have Nightmare on Elm Street style visions each time he tried to get a few hours of rest, after experiencing it for a while and not actually dying as a result, it eventually became normal. He couldn't help but to think that it was a very telling story about how his life had been going as of late that he was able to reach the point where experiencing nightmares he could physically feel had somehow managed to become normal. He released an inaudible sigh and tried to think of something else. He failed.

Everything he thought he was experiencing was psychosomatic; a manifestation of building paranoia that he kept on imagining was true. He was fairly confident that was the reason, and yet there were still a few aspects he couldn't bring himself to ignore. The images changed slightly each time, but they'd been keeping the same general theme of fire and that single shadow. Irritating as it was to get the same lovely awakening each day, there wasn't anything he was aware of which he could do to fend off these visions, either. He could try to stop being paranoid, but that would lower his guard when he had every reason to be suspicious of everyone and everything he happened across. Along with so many of the other problems with his life, it was just something he had to cope with.

Having felt him budge by rolling across the bed, Eulalie awoke as well. She wandered beneath the covers of the blanket until she was able to settle in the warm spot where Cian had previously been lying. She bumped her head against his back affectionately and curled up to waste away the remaining hours of the morning before school in a nap of her own. It was much simpler for her to fall back asleep than it was for him. Eulalie didn't need to think about the people sleeping just outside this room, or even more unsettlingly, the one lurking in his closet, watching.

Contrary to what he initially expected out of it, having his old memories didn't help Cian to be much more at ease with Sebastian's presence than he otherwise would have been. The additional memories he had acquired read about as accurately as anyone else's recollections of what they were like fourteen or thirteen years ago. He no longer had to worry about the basic facts since an understanding on an outline was etched into his brain, but personal information and emotions were impressively indistinctive and everything as a whole felt distorted by his current perspective. It wasn't as if his previous personality was going to rise up and take control over his body in order to provide a dissertation on what these glimpses were supposed to mean.

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't know what he wanted Sebastian to show him. He couldn't rightfully expect for the demon to understand him when not even he could figure out what he was searching for. Fourteen years ago, he had a purpose, but presuming that his other parents' murderers were dead, that purpose was gone. Nowadays, the only motivation he had was to be while getting by, spiting other people through his own stubborn existence. How was Sebastian supposed to fit into an image so vaguely defined that not even the person who created it could explain it?

It was with that growing puzzle in mind that he finally brought himself to lie still, and with a great deal of frustration towards himself, finally drifted off back into sleep, much to the relief of the observing party. Had the boy stayed needlessly awake for much longer than that, it would have become increasingly difficult to wake him in time for school, among other things. Sebastian knew better than to intervene. His presence would have done more harm than good; not even he could console the unwilling.

Approximately ten minutes after Cian's breathing pattern slowed enough to indicate that he was deeply engrossed in his sleep; a gentle rumble crept into the room and filled it with the sound of mechanical whirring. It was the sound of the garage door being opened and shut. The upcoming signs of winter weather had urged the owner of the house to park his vehicle inside upon his arrival late the previous night. The man's departure was becoming easier to track than ever. It was convenience to knowing how best to avoid him that there was a signal every time he came and went. That way, Sebastian knew just when it was safe to open the door and not run the risk of encountering a stranger he'd be better off not having met.

In the month that he'd stayed here, Sebastian did find it peculiar that he had avoided an accidental encounter with his master's father. They took proper steps to avoid it, but he couldn't help but think for a moment that it shouldn't have been that simple of a task to accomplish. Yet, it was, and he was in no position to complain about what was ultimately a benefit, however strange it might be.

Sebastian pressed a finger to the edge of the wood ahead of him and slowly slid the closet door open. He softly set his feet against the floor, treading across the room without making a sound, until he was standing at Cian's bed-side. He paused for a moment and leaned over the edge in order to take a glimpse at the figure resting in discomfort. He reached across the bed towards the opposite corner of the blanket, and straightened out both sides to tuck the boy in without disrupting his attempt at finding a moment of peace, or otherwise. Sebastian's stare lingered on Cian's face for a few moments longer, watching him sleep up close. He smiled gently for just a moment, and then turned his back to continue on his way.

Sebastian checked the locks in the room. The latches on the window were all set in place, and the only door in was set to unlock only from the inside. Sebastian would have been able to break through it regardless, but he was wagering that anybody who could potentially cause a problem wouldn't make it past him towards the door. For that matter, he was under the impression that nobody was going to approach in the first place, at least not yet. These precautions were for preparation's sake, and for the most part they were relatively unobtrusive. The single downside to setting the lock was that Eulalie was trapped inside as well. Sebastian had to assume that she was too comfortable to mind. She appeared to be quite content while sleeping beside her owner, so it wasn't likely to be that major of an imposition.

Now that security was as settled as it could be, it was time for him to prepare breakfast. He had two hours left to complete the preparations for school that day. Fortunately enough, it was surprisingly easy (for him) to grade test papers in the darkness of a closet, so there were only a few minor chores to attend to.

There wasn't much of a change in what had become the morning routine. Sebastian woke Cian up with some difficulties, waited for him to finish breakfast, got the car while he got dressed, and together they left for school. The weather was chilly but pleasant enough that it wasn't unreasonable to walk instead of drive. Cian had woken up quickly enough that they weren't behind schedule, thereby enabling the two to split up without Cian being tardy. While it was technically a risk for the two of them to be in separate places by any form of routine, there had been such a distinct lack in activity that taking every possible precaution seemed as if it would draw more attention than relaxing one of them did.

The walk to school was uneventful to the point of being boring. A few of his fellow students passed by him on the walk, one of whom appeared to be very tempted to walk across the street and start tormenting him. Cian averted his eyes in the opposite direction and continued on. Aside from that one moment, nothing of particular interest occurred.

When Cian arrived at school, there was nothing unexpected in the hallways, nor was there anything even remotely interesting about his homeroom class. After his aunt and cousin had paid their brief visit, nothing of note had happened, and life seemed to be settling into a lull. The dates on the blackboard tended to change, but he wouldn't have been all that shocked if he had reappeared at the previous day. The topic of conversation and gossip was identical to what it had been the week before, the principal made the same reminders on the announcements, and they were even reviewing the same topic from last week in his first period class. Words failed to express how much he would prefer not to be here. Why couldn't he test out and just go to college, again?

He didn't intend to be so negative about it, but he couldn't help it. In theory, monotony was a good thing. It implied that there hadn't been any recent attempts on his life or miscellaneous accidents in the school. Safety was a definitively positive product of normalcy. However, it would have been much more enjoyable as a victory if he wasn't spending the time engrossed in tension, being consistently paranoid about the moment when that condition was going to stop.

To add even more unnecessary problems, one of the many rumors that had started to float around was that he was responsible for the accident in the chemistry lab. The instructor had spoken to him about it, and after a lengthy discussion on the subject of why he knew how to identify what had been in the vials without being involved, was excused from suspicion. The students weren't quite so willing to listen to reason. As much as he preferred to think he couldn't care less if others spoke to him, having a collective silent grudge directed towards him for something he had specifically attempted to stop was incredibly annoying. Still, there was nothing he could do about it, and life moved on.

Specifically, it moved into second period, then third period, and so forth. The latter classes did manage to be marginally more interesting by introducing new material. Third period, he was able to see Sebastian in class, which he expected would become the highlight of his day for a number of reasons. Sebastian's lessons tended to be notably more interesting than most of the other teachers'. There was a level of understanding he managed to convey which implied a strong involvement in the events he was outlining, which made sense, considering he had most likely seen everything first-hand. The second reason was more influential. While he was in the history classroom, Cian didn't need to be quite as wary of his surroundings. There were very few items in the vicinity which could be sabotaged, and even less of them that he believed would be. The only remarkable item that was being used in the classroom at that moment was a pull-down map which was briefly displayed over the blackboard, and he'd have loved to see how that could be turned into an effective weapon. He wouldn't deny that it was possible, but it would be a spectacle to see the cloth pull away from the board, move on its own and start smothering students, so he didn't regard it as likely.

The third period bell seemed to ring quicker than the others did, most likely because he hadn't felt inclined to smash his head against the desk at any point during the lesson. Cian sat back in his seat as he watched the other students leave. He wasn't going to bother standing up quite yet. There wouldn't have been a use in attempting to brush his way past, especially not when there were some people in this room who would find a sense of accomplishment by blocking his path on purpose. It was immature for them to do it in the first place, so he wasn't going to let it bother him. Sebastian could write a note if he ended up being late. That aside, he wanted the students to leave before him. There was something he wanted to discuss.

He folded his hands across his desk and kept an eye on the others as they shuffled out the door. One by one, they broke off from their clusters to leave for their next class. He didn't bother to budge his books or move his chair. While everyone else was leaving, Cian just sat there, slouching forward with his mouth hidden behind his hands, staring at the front desk. Sebastian noticed immediately. How could he not have? The once respectful, attentive stare Cian had worn during the lesson had shifted into demanding one. They needed to talk.

Sebastian waited until the last of the other students had walked away from the classroom to leave his desk. He stopped beside the entrance and shut the door, creating the false impression that he had left the room between class periods. He twisted the blinds shut over the window, ensuring as much privacy as he would be able to create, and turned around to face the desk on the opposite side of the classroom, respectfully facing the young master.

"We have two minutes, sir," Sebastian advised, making sure that this was clarified before the discussion could begin. If Cian had something to say, it was important that he was direct about it, or the time limit might prevent him from reaching his point.

Cian's eye followed Sebastian as he walked across the room, the rest of him not budging very far. He rose up against the back of the chair enough that he was slouching slightly less forward, but he couldn't bring himself to move his hands away from his head, and he was still hunched over the surface of the desk. He was doing his best to mask it, but it was still somewhat evident that he was distraught.

"This isn't working," he murmured, speaking up just enough that he could be comprehended through what sounded like pain. Specifically, it was a headache. He'd been fending the annoyance off all morning, and it was steadily catching up to him while taking a toll on his patience.

Without that context, Sebastian was left with a rough guess and not much understanding of what he was supposed to see. "Is there anything in particular you wish to do to fix this, or are we being vague merely for the sake of it?" Sebastian asked as he continued to approach.

Cian pressed his hand further into the side of his face and ran his fingers through his bangs, ruffling them in frustration. He wasn't quite sure how to express this particular thought. "I mean school, classes, everything. It's just not," he murmured, making it blatantly apparent that he was grasping for words. Sebastian continued to watch him in expectation. What he had said hadn't helped to create specifics about anything. Cian took this as a signal to revise his approach.

"Write me a pass. Say I have a migraine. It's not much of a lie, regardless. I'm going home," he ordered. He had intended it to sound like a demand, but it lacked the usual strength of persuasion that usually stayed in a command.

Regardless of how it sounded or not, there was nothing that Sebastian should have done to enable that. Cian's request was unreasonable for the situation. The boy should have known full well why it was such a horrible idea, which might explain why his inflection was so unconvincing.

"If you are feeling unwell, it would be best if you rest in the infirmary. You are aware I can't leave this suddenly," Sebastian suggested back, trying to come up with an alternative that would still be of some help. It wasn't a horrible idea by any means, but it wasn't the response that Cian wanted to hear.

In theory, it was safer for them to be together at any given time, but that distinction was by such a slim margin that not even this was secure. He was relatively certain that whatever had been at work, the sole hint it had was the school, so it wouldn't put him in danger to take a few hours off and leave. If only he left, it wouldn't be of note. Cian's hand shifted away to rest directly over the top of his eye instead, eliminating his view of his surroundings. It was darker that way, and thus more comfortable. "I don't need you to be there. I'm going home," he insisted.

It was at this point when Sebastian was able to determine with the utmost certainly what had to be bringing this insistence on. After the weeks that had passed them without any specifically threatening events to speak of, it was starting to take a toll. Sebastian could understand why. That didn't make it commendable. "Are you certain that being rash is the best course of action, here?" he questioned in return. It wasn't his place to specifically say no to an order, but he could question it.

Unfortunately, Cian seemed to recognize this for being the ploy that it was. "I have to do something else than hear people talk while I have this ruddy headache, so," he paused, then released an irritated sigh, unintentionally proving that Sebastian was under precisely the right impression.

"As unpleasant as this is, their frustrations are likely to be worse," Sebastian suggested back, attempting to encourage him.

"I'm aware of that. In a way, it's the problem. Every day increases the likelihood that they're going to come back. Every day, I have to watch with more caution. I understand that we need to bide time, but being able to reason through that doesn't mean I can ignore it. The only thing it does mean is that I'm not going to be able to get rid of this ruddy headache." Cian paused to take in a deep breath. It sounded more like a heavy sigh.

Sebastian wanted to say something about it, but he couldn't. As much of a problem as it was to let him stay in this state, Cian's reasoning was sound. They were at a disadvantage from the beginning and stuck on the defensive. There really was nothing that could be done to fix that, and it wasn't a pleasant position for either of them to be in. Neither of them could change that, and from a practical standpoint, nothing Sebastian could say would make a difference. Well, there was still one thing that Sebastian could theoretically say that would help, but sending him home wasn't a possibility.

"I suppose that is understandable. However, I am not legally permitted to release you without a guardian present. If you wish to rest, you shall have to settle for the nurse. So with due respect, no, you cannot go home," Sebastian answered. Letting Cian leave would have been a temporary fix at best, and it created too much of an opportunity if they were being watched. No matter what way he looked at it, it wasn't practical. That the school wouldn't allow him to do it anyway was just a reasonable excuse.

Reason was something that Cian was past the point of wanting to accept. "I can make you send me home if I want to," he spoke back, on the verge of making a demand.

"You can be responsible for the loss of my employment as well, if you so choose," Sebastian said, insisting by pointing out what should have been obvious. If he were to purposely bend the school rules for Cian and was caught, there would be consequences for it, and it wasn't likely they would be able to speak through them. Willing reality away could potentially alert someone if they were being watched by someone who was immune enough to know, so they didn't have another option but to abide by human constraints.

Cian's eye narrowed in further frustration, directing it towards the person in his way. It would have been a far more threatening expression if his face hadn't started to flush. "Maybe that would be a good idea," he grumbled. He abruptly stood up from his desk, grabbed his books from where they were resting on the floor, and started marching towards the door. If there wasn't going to be any positive progress from it, he wasn't in the mood to waste any more time on this discussion than he already had.

Sebastian leaned away from his own desk and followed along towards the door. He didn't want to let the discussion end on such an abysmal statement. The boy already looked sick enough. If it was possible, it would be best not to leave him so agitated. "If there was an alternative, I would allow you to. Unfortunately, it's not under my control," he tried to explain.

Cian paused by the door frame and looked over his shoulder. He could understand what Sebastian's point was, but it didn't please him in the slightest. He knew full well that he was the one being unreasonable in this situation and Sebastian was simply trying to keep him in check. It didn't make him any less reluctant and bitter to listen to him. "Fine. I'll be in class. I'll see you this evening. Expect to grovel," Cian spoke through a glower.

Sebastian responded to the gesture by placing on his most accommodating smile. He looked forward towards Cian with the most charm that he could muster. "I shall look forward to it immensely."

Dissatisfied yet again, Cian slammed the door behind him. His next class was being held nearby. So long as he rushed to get there, that exchange wasn't enough to make him late. It was only enough to make him frustrated and drastically worsen his headache.

If there was anything he could do to alter this situation, he wanted to. His anxiety was rising so steadily that he didn't think it would take much more for him to dive off the metaphorical edge and lose it. In theory, one person would only be able to balance on the brink of insanity for so long.

It was this thought that caused him to pause when he turned a corner and look back in the direction from whence he came. Hadn't he experienced a rise in this feeling previously? If he was recalling correctly, on multiple occasions, his sense of unease had taken a sharp turn up immediately before something started to go awry. It hadn't happened every time, and it was an absurd idea to jump towards, but it was no more absurd than a lot of the other things he had come to accept lately. What if he had started to feel this way because someone was about to strike?

He turned around to walk back down the hallway, towards the room he'd just come from. Standing around here contemplating the idea wasn't a good idea. If he was right, then he had to at least tell him about it.

"Sebastian," Cian started to call out as he walked towards the corner. He came to an instant stop when he caught full sight of the hallway ahead of him. The door to his classroom was open, and there were already other students approaching to enter inside. If he were to go back now, he'd be calling further attention to himself. The clock was ticking. Whether he was right or wrong, there wasn't enough time to reach him before classes started.

With a shake of his head as he walked onwards, Cian dismissed the thought. At this point, every idea he had was purely speculative. There was no good reason for him to be so entirely convinced that something was about to happen, nor was there a reason to panic. There was, however, a very sound reason not to anticipate whatever he was going to face behind that door.

Cian walked into the boy's locker room and headed immediately over to his locker to grab his change of clothing from inside. A few of his fellow students glanced in his direction as he passed by, but no one bothered speaking to his face today, which was enough of an improvement for him not to bother thinking about it. Ordinarily, he would have preferred to change in one of the few stalls, but he needed to make up for the time he'd spent pleading with Sebastian, so once he was relatively certain no one was looking in his direction anymore, he turned his back to the other students and switched clothing as hastily as possible. As he pulled his head through the collar of his t-shirt, he heard the warning whistle blow, beckoning the class into the gymnasium. He wriggled the collar over his head and wasted no time in following. He was already going through the agony of being here; he didn't want to end up getting half credit for lagging a few seconds behind and be counted as tardy because of it.

By some strange fluke or plain act of laziness on someone else's part, Cian wasn't the last person out the door. He stood as far towards the back wall as he could without running the risk of hiding himself and overlooked the rest of the room. Under most circumstances, the gymnasium was divided in two during the winter in order to accommodate both the boys and girls gym classes at the same time, but today, the space was completely open and the girls were standing on the opposite side. A row of rubber playground balls had been arranged along the center line, spanning along the distance of the gym. It didn't take much in the way of deductive reasoning skills to guess what today's activity would be.

The short but burly middle aged man in charge of their class marched up to the front of the pack of boys he had gathered. He lowered his whistle from his mouth, puffed out his chest as he took a deep breath, and prepared to make his proclamation. Cian shifted a few steps to the side and positioned himself directly behind another student so he wouldn't be in the teacher's immediate sight. He opened his mouth and started mouthing the words along in disinterest around the same point that the teacher began shouting them, if not a few seconds ahead of time. Cian didn't need to hear him speak in order to guess with remarkable accuracy exactly how and what he was going to say.

"Listen up, boys, I'm not grading you on how well you can hold a discussion. That's why debate class exists. Here, you're going to actually use something other than your head. Today, we're playing dodge ball. The rules are simple; if you've got a ball, try to hit someone on the opposite side. If you don't got a ball, either run the heck away and get one, or catch it. If someone on the opposite side catches a ball you tried to throw, you're out. If someone on your team catches a ball, one person on that team gets to come back in. If there are no people left on your side in the field, you're out. And if you don't want to get hit or break a nail or something stupid like that, then you'd better do a good job at dodgin' or it's your own fault. Comprende?" the teacher barked at the class. The group nodded their head as a collective entity, agreeing whether or not they actually had listened closely enough to know what he was talking about.

Satisfied with their response, or at least as close to it as he was going to get, the teacher stepped backwards across the room and approached the center line. He picked up one of the balls from its resting point and tossed it up and down in the air a few times, watching over the group like a vulture waiting for prey. Once he had finally found one, he chucked the ball ahead and hit one of the students directly in the chest, which they missed. They jolted upright, startled. "So unless you like embarrassing me and everyone else around you, pay attention- to me, to where the ball is, to where you are, to everything- and then, maybe you stand a shot of not embarrassing yourself in front of the other girls you'll be playing with. They're a heck of a lot cuter than you are, so you'd better do something to impress them."

The teacher turned his hand, motioning to get the ball back. One of the other students towards the back of the group picked up on the cue and passed it to him. He caught it and hoisted it up into the air for a moment before finally setting it back down on the center line. "Now, I've got paperwork to do, so today, you're going to be monitored by Ms. Carr. You know your usual numbers- evens to the back, odds stay where you are. If I hear one thing goes wrong, you all know what'll happen, so don't. I'll see you on Monday."

With that last statement, their usual gym teacher marched back into his office with his chin raised high and his footsteps making a notable thud each time he passed by. The class stood by at attention, waiting for him to go. He turned his head over his shoulder and shot an intimidating look in their direction. He didn't even need to speak this time in order to convey what he wanted the group to do and get compliance to it. The students who had been assigned even numbers on the class roster at the beginning of the year walked along to the opposite side of the classroom, and the odd numbers, including Cian, stood awkwardly in place and watched cautiously as the instructor finally left.

Physical Education was never really a specialty of his, but Cian was even less in the mood to deal with this class than usual. He went out of his way to face diagonally, avoiding all potential outside contact, and stuck towards the back of the group. His head bobbed forward slightly from a combination of general exhaustion and increasingly annoying stress headache. He jolted himself back upright when he began to hear footsteps shuffling as most of the students got into their positions and prepared to charge. Cian stood still. He had a different type of plan, today.

The whistle rang throughout the air and the stampede began to rush forward, grabbing for the balls in desperation and throwing them every which way in a rush. He waited by the sidelines for the first few moments, standing completely still in wait while the scrimmage went on. Casualties amassed on both side as the most reckless and energetic of the group took one another out. He maintained his ground, watching over the scene as he waited for one of the stray balls to scatter in such a way that it rolled along through the crowd towards him. A couple of minutes later, one of them did.

Cian reached down and picked up the ball. He strode between the few students in his way until there were no blocks between himself and the center line and threw the ball with as little force as he could while still getting it into the air. It bounced against the ground and over towards the other side. The general lack of velocity behind it made it easily caught. He feigned an expression of disappointment for about half of a second and walked off of the court with absolutely no intention of trying to enter back in. He had made it appear as if he tried, and that was good enough.

He walked over to the back right corner of the gym and flopped back against one of the mats on the wall for support. As he collided with the mat and slid along it, the mat started to slip as well. The Velcro at the top of the frame unlatched, causing the upper corner to drop down and smacking Cian's head. He jolted for a moment. One look in the direction of the cause later, his expression dulled. Cian languidly smacked the corner back into its proper place. It started to droop again. He shifted to rest his right side against the cushion before it could try and repeat the incident. He let out a light sigh and closed his eye to try and pretend that he was absolutely anywhere else but school. This didn't work nearly as well as he had intended.

The moment that his eyelids shut, the commotion taking place on the court was overlapped by a completely different type of chaos. The entire room sounded as if it was engulfed in static, buzzing off the walls like a television with poor reception. Cian opened his eyes again reflexively in an attempt to make the noise go away. Instead, it continued to build along an unsteady gradual crescendo, intensifying to the point where it was close to causing actual, physical pain to listen to. He turned his head to evaluate the room as a whole and furrowed his eyebrows when, for some reason, he couldn't. They were standing right in front of him, but it was difficult to see details any more substantial than a silhouette through the heavy, cloudy haze that obscured them. It wavered in and out, swirling and flickering while it tried to sustain itself, and nobody else appeared any the wiser to its presence.

Cian raised his left hand and rubbed against his eye. He blinked a couple of times with the expectation that the distortion would dissipate and something would change. Nothing did. That was the last form of confirmation he could have possibly needed to see in order to be certain. He couldn't distinguish enough detail to know what, but his suspicion about today wasn't misplaced paranoia. There was a line between sheer coincidence and a correlation, and this crossed it at a leap.

He surveyed the room to the best of his severely limited abilities to make sure that Ms. Carr was occupied enough monitoring the game that she wouldn't spot him and try to interfere. The second that he confirmed this, he sprinted to the closest door and into the boys' locker room. He hadn't had much time to think of a plan, but even without one, he knew that whatever he was about to do, he couldn't initiate it while in plain sight of the other students. Before he could do anything else, he had to reach Sebastian to tell him about what he'd seen. Cian didn't have the capacity to exert much influence on his surroundings, but Sebastian certainly could.

He made it about halfway through this thought before he skidded to a stop in his tracks, both his thoughts and his feet frozen by a sudden realization that hadn't occurred to him while he was fleeing away. He stared ahead towards the row of lockers and the brushed goldenrod tiled wall, a lump of saliva compiling in his throat. The color in his face drained in an instant. Class was still in session, students were in the rooms, and the man who was supposed to be his current teacher was sitting behind a glass wall just behind him, supposedly working on paperwork. Cian couldn't leave. If he tried to get Sebastian in person, the source of the interruption would be blatantly obvious, and if he tried to speak to him aloud, there was still someone in sight to catch him talking to himself. Either way, his actions would serve as a signal to his identity. Whatever he chose to do, he would need to take action on his own, and there was no time to waste worrying about what that action was.

Taking the only logical turn he could, Cian pivoted in his place and started walking briskly but silently in the opposite direction, passing by the door to the teacher's office in complete silence. The moment that he had passed by the last glass window, he glimpsed back towards the opening to assure that he wasn't being monitored and took off in a full sprint towards the lavatories. The bathroom was located in a small, separate attached room that was barely bigger than a closet and only had enough space to fit a single occupant. The door was shut. He tried to twist the handle, and his stomach sank when it stuck. He checked the bottom of the door and noticed that there was no light inside, so it was unlikely that the door was locked due to someone else being in there. He shoved his elbow into it and tried again, twisting the handle in each direction. It gave way, allowing him to stumble inside, set his back against the door and turn the lock behind him.

A list of potential outcomes swarmed through his mind simultaneously, branching off into action and attribution all at once. There were only a few ways to guarantee that students were forced into leaving a building, and he needed one that couldn't be traced back to him. Anonymous tips for a bomb threat were always taken seriously and it could be considered possible, but he'd just left the room and it would show up on his call history. Minor as it was, that left a trail and it could be incriminating enough, and he couldn't guarantee that the message would be passed along quickly enough to be acted upon before it was too late. He needed something faster; something that could only end in one potential action. That didn't leave him with much in the way of options, and the one to come to mind made him grimace in uncertainty. He ran a lot of risk of revealing himself if the teacher had seen him and made a connection between his presence and what he intended to follow. This wouldn't act as a perfect solution by any means. Still, it was the best he had to go on, so he needed it to work.

A misty, faintly purple haze began to seep in beneath the cracks in the door. It rose upwards in waves, creeping to the ceiling like a cloud of smoke. It flickered in and out as he tried to move in an effect he couldn't help but to acknowledge was somewhat dizzying. He'd dealt with enough hallucinations lately to understand that the visual was nothing more than an attempted warning of danger, so he made a conscious decision not to pay any further mind to the aura and concentrate on the task at hand.

He shut his right eye. That seemed to eliminate the distraction, at least for the time being. With that problem out of the way, Cian started searching throughout the room for his resources. He reached into the pocket of his gym shorts and rummaged around to check for whatever was in there as well. He paused when he spotted the light fixture above the sink, noticed where the cord was, and followed it with his eyes to see where exactly it led. He crawled beneath the sink, opened up the cabinet and found an electrical outlet.

"If I don't state aloud what I'm doing, maybe there's a chance this'll actually work," he muttered to himself as he reached inside of the cabinet. He jammed up a piece of notebook paper that he had kept inside of his pocket, unplugged the light, wrapped the piece of paper around the metal prong and plugged the light back in. What would usually be an extraordinarily stupid thing to do was instead going to cause precisely what he needed to happen, or so he hoped. He hadn't gotten the opportunity to test the theory whether or not this would do what he intended for it to.

He shoved whatever else was in the cabinet as close to the outlet as he could, retracted his hands, and waited for a spark. Soon enough, he started to smell something a little abnormal. Taking that as the closest thing to a sign as he was going to get, Cian climbed on top of the toilet and used it as a step towards the window. He pulled the curtain rod off from its perch, removed the curtains and tossed the pole aside.

A bit of correctly tinted smoke began to rise throughout the room. He stuffed one of the curtains beneath the door for the time being to prevent it from leaking out. If he waited too long, he'd get smoke inhalation from trapping himself inside of here with no outside oxygen, but he could withstand at least a minute or so as long as he was careful about it. He used the second curtain to fan at the opening, trying to direct the smoke towards the alarm at the top of the ceiling. If enough of it compiled, then it was only a matter of time until it began to buzz incessantly and nag everyone out of danger whether they were especially compelled to leave or not.

He stared down the blinking red eye in expectation, intently analyzing each momentary pause for a sign of uncertainty. There was little point in him keeping an eye on the flames when there was little to be gained from leaving. His skin didn't feel too much excess heat, and as far as containment went, the generally non-flammable appliances in the room didn't place him in any danger. The only thing he had to focus on was that one little blip and the signal he needed it to send. It didn't respond.

His impatience began to escalate steadily. If he had to spend another thirty seconds in this room, puffing out his cheeks like a rodent storing nuts, he'd be about ready to skip the transference and pull an alarm himself. Then, the light stabilized into a constant state of vibrant, fire red. The alarm vibrated. That was as much of a cue as he needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Cian referenced the window above the toilet for about half a second and instantly decided it was far too small for a person to plausibly climb through, so he reverted to leaving the same way he came. He snatched the curtain away from beneath the door, tossed both of them wherever in the room they might fall, and ran back towards the gym to join the others. It wasn't as if the school had video cameras, so the best chance he had at avoiding suspicion would be to pretend he hadn't left for more than a minute in the first place and pretend he was slow to respond. He darted through the locker rooms, pushed open the door to the gymnasium, took a few stumbling steps inside, and skidded to a narrow stop with his arms partway outstretched to force himself to balance in spite of the unexpected.

The lights within the room snapped off, dimming his surroundings instantly. Only the cloudy skies outside the wall length panel windows lining the other side of the room provided any light by which to see. It was still bright enough at midday that nothing was truly obscured by the sudden change in illumination. The sole thing the shift in intensity accomplished was to be foreboding. It did this exceedingly well.

Cian rocked backwards just far enough to stand back upright once again. He looked out across the room in search of any sign of life just in time to hear a door slam on the exact opposite side of the room. A girl Cian didn't recognize by name came stumbling out the other side. The moment that he laid eyes on her, it pulled a sense of foggy familiarity out of him. He would have questioned it further, but circumstances were demanding and he didn't have the time to make any distinctions. All that mattered about her was that she went to this school, had also been in the bathroom long enough to get left behind, and was stuck directly in the middle of something that should not have been her problem to face.

The shock of almost falling over had caused him to instinctively open both of his eyes. The moment that he had the time to start observing his surroundings past the point of them being dimmed, he was forced to see that the aura had swollen significantly since he left. It engulfed the entire room, overlapping the upper half of the gymnasium inside a practically impermeable solid coat that nearly gave off the appearance of a sea on the ceiling. There were a number of ways he could choose to interpret that, none of which struck him as being especially promising.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he forced himself to recover and started walking across the room to reach the exit. He made it no more than five steps before the ground began to rattle and creak with the reverberation spreading through the old walls. Making it out the door wasn't going to be nearly as promising of an option as first thought.

Cian backed away from the exit and the adjacent wall. He ran along the edge of it until he came across the door to the storage closet. If he was lucky, the rush to depart from the potentially imminent disaster would have encouraged the teacher not to waste time locking the door. He twisted the handle. It refused to budge. He tried to shove his shoulder into it and force it to open with absolutely no success at doing so. He signed in exasperation, tempted to place his frustrations into more concise, effective words, but lacking the time with which to do so.

"It's time for plan B. What's plan B?" he muttered with a light, impatient sigh under his breath. With this much pressure, he hadn't much time to think of something practical, but he didn't need for it to seem reasonable so long as whatever he came up with managed to be effective.

The lights hanging from the ceiling started to clank about as their chains hit together, parting the sea of smoke in waves and forming so much of an unnecessary distraction, his brain may have been clogged. He turned to his right and continued to scour the area for anything that even remotely resembled a possible idea. His concentration didn't last for long.

" 'Ey there! Hurry it up! Unless you really want to be a charred pancake person, it's prolly a good idea!" the still-unidentified classmate shouted towards him. He looked around the room until he spotted her. She was currently standing about hallway across the gym, beside the back wall, and facing in his general direction with an increasingly incredulous stare, truly curious as to whether or not he saw her there in the first place. Aside from that one brief glimpse in her direction, he didn't seem to even acknowledge the fact that she was there as well.

The moment he noted where she was standing, Cian had started looking in another direction. The girl wasn't exactly a necessary part of the decision making process in self-preservation. At the rate at which the vibrations were increasing, it was apparent that whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen before he could escape through an open door. He ran a few steps along the back wall until he was standing beside the edge of a cushioned mat and pulled with as much force as he could muster. The Velcro that supported it gradually gave way, detaching from the wall into a long, unexpectedly heavy cushion. He hoisted it over his head and was easily lost beneath the musty piece of foam and pleather. Cian pushed the drooping front of it backwards far enough to peek around. Soon enough, he spotted the other girl, bounding back towards the women's locker room and the inevitable disaster to come.

This wasn't a scenario that lent itself well to careful calculation and logical thought. There was no time for him to respond with anything other than pure reflex. Cian bounded across the room as fast as he could possibly move while still lugging the mat along with him. Not even he was entirely sure how he managed to overtake her pace and caught up with her, but he did.

The moment that she was in his sight, he reached out an arm and grabbed onto the back of her hair. It slipped through his fingers almost immediately, but it was enough to make her stumble, and that was all the opportunity he needed. Her pace started to slow so she could catch her balance. He slipped one step ahead of her, fell to his knees and grabbed her by the ankle before she had the opportunity to. She collapsed to the ground as well. A number of curse words began to gurgle in her throat, preparing to erupt in the most vicious way possible. They seared on her tongue, but they never had the chance to come out.

Scrambling to make the last effort he could, Cian tried to pin the girl momentarily by placing one knee on her back and pushing down. One hand pressed against the floor to hold him upright while the other one, along with his head and the upper portion of his back, held the mat up above them. His other foot struggled to keep the bottom of the mat securely down, with a questionable amount of success. The floor vibrated beneath him, continually escalating in intensity, attempting to throw him off of his balance at the last second. He held his ground.

A clamor rushed over the room as every window lining the northern wall crashed in a single blow. It started with the ringing of glass shattering, turned into a wave rushing through the air, and was followed by the crash of fragments colliding to the ground, clawing at the surface with every speck of force it had. He couldn't remember how the end sounded. His senses were too overwhelmed to hear it anymore.

In the grand scheme, this wasn't that horrible. He could directly recall experiencing far, far more excruciating problems than this. Being branded like cattle seared both one's skin and pride. Losing his eye and having to deal with the fact that nobody would ever be able to stare straight at him without seeing a scar rather than a person; that was agony. A few shards of glass being chucked in his direction and some pressure in his chest really weren't a big deal in contrast to what he had already endured. The trouble with contrasting those prior experiences was that, unlike everything he could so vaguely remember, his back was poked through with numerous shards of glass right now. Right now, they still kept throbbing, and no amount of memories was going to make that stop.

Cian had yet to see whatever damage had come to the room as a whole. The instant that the wall of windows lining the gym had broken and sprayed across the area, he'd stopped directly observing anything around him besides the back of the mat he'd tried to use as cover. Out of the very few options he had at the time, it'd seemed like the most useful item available. In contrast to the bleachers, wearing a dodge ball as a hat or doing absolutely nothing, it had served him fairly well. He could feel the remnants digging into his back, so obviously he was alive at this point.

As he struggled to continue leaning upright, Cian coughed. There wasn't that much smoke in the air in this room, but at this point there didn't really need to be in order to trigger that reaction. He blinked a few times as he struggled to re-enter a state of full awareness with arguable success, though he couldn't really state for certain how successful he was when the only thing he'd done thus far was stay in precisely the same location as he'd been for the past thirty seconds or so.

A wave of nausea pushed through him, swaying him even further off balance in the process. He flopped to his right, leaning in towards the ground. The mat moved along with him, causing certain shards of glass to poke in new, innovative ways that made him feel even worse. He moaned lightly and began to wonder exactly why he'd thought that was such a good idea in the first place. A couple of seconds later, he had a relatively reliable explanation for that. He'd taken that action because he _wasn't_ thinking. Sure, he didn't want to get a bystander hurt due to a problem his presence had caused, but even with that condition he couldn't help but to note in retrospect that pushing someone else away to take the damage had been exceptionally short-sighted.

"What in the heck was that about? Divin' in like you're some kind of ground based super hero mole worm creature… I mean, I appreciate it, but I coulda kinda used a warnin'," the girl spurted out, evidently a little bit achy herself. She jostled her way out from beneath Cian as he tried to stand up, the combination of which knocked him even further off balance.

He stayed on the floor for a few moments longer, not bothering to put forth the imminently painful effort to move from his spot. While it wasn't exactly comfortable to be sprawled out across the wooden floor, bleeding from lacerations he couldn't see or even necessarily prove were there at this point, he wasn't overly inclined to budge in the near future.

The girl stood up off of the ground and began to pace around the mat. Cian could hear her footsteps. He tried not to care. This was proven rather quickly not to be a viable option. No sooner had he started to close his eyes did she yank the mat off of him and unceremoniously chuck it to the side of the room with even less warning than he'd bothered to give her. He was too shocked by the twist in what had to be a larger room to make a scathing remark about the hypocrisy of what she'd had to say. His eyes shot open.

He started to move one of his arms towards his mouth to cover a wheeze in his sleeve when he froze mid-motion due to a sharp pang again. Well, at least now he knew there was more than one major injury to treat. His eyes snapped sharply open, widening on reflex due to the shock. His view expanded just in time to get a very clear image of the increasingly familiar face staring over him.

"Thanks for the feedback. I'll be certain to keep that in mind, next time I use myself as a human shield on your behalf," Cian commented flatly back to her, trying to hide any sounds of pain in his voice but not entirely succeeding. He lowered his head back behind his arms and tried to forget everything that had come rushing into his head. He really didn't want to continue staring at her freckled face when the memories that accompanied her were so uncomfortable for him to process.

"Ey, this is no time for being cheeky. Sure, you're a bloody mess," she glanced in his direction with an expression on the verge of a wince. He returned the stare dispassionately.

"That much is relatively obvious," he remarked back.

"But it aint' gonna get better standin' around! C'mon, we've gotta get outa here," she tried to urge him on. Cian didn't bother suppressing his groan this time. He started to slowly rise up to his feet. Each time he tried to arch his back, it tried to turn rigid against his will. This twitching happened about twice before the girl previously known as Doll lost her patience with it. She grabbed onto Cian's arm and started to pull him up. He started to stumble on reflex until eventually the process had caused him to stand on his feet. He was on the verge of saying something sarcastic back to her just to relieve his growing inner frustration with the whole scenario when she started pulling him along with her towards the exit.

As much as it may have hurt, but he really did need to get out of here- both of them did. It was deeply unsettling to keep being prodded around like this, but at least he understood not to take it personally. The looming miasma within the area was still just as murky as before. He could hardly see down the length of the hallway. If he was anywhere even remotely unfamiliar, it would have been all too easy to get lost within the winding maze of the school grounds. Even his mind was beginning to feel mildly hazy, though he was fairly sure that the aura engulfing the area wasn't at fault for that part.

His eye started to flicker shut, but he started to fall over the instant that it closed, so he managed to snap them back open and go on as intended. He looked from side to side with as much caution as he could muster. The aura was still here. There was a strong possibility something else was going to happen, or what was worse, someone else was still here. If it did, he had to be braced for their appearance. And yet, peculiarly enough, no one came. Every lurking shadow remained as a shadow, and with absolutely no further disruptions, the two of them emerged on the other side.

Five or six steps out onto the sidewalk, Doll skidded to an eventual stop. She gasped for air, thoroughly relieved to see the clear sky. She turned her head to face Cian, a playful smirk growing over the pleasant surprise that escaping the way they had actually worked. "That was a real close one, eh-" she started to speak, but cut herself off almost immediately when the person she was searching for wasn't there to be seen; at least he wasn't seen in the spot where she expected him to be.

The second that Cian's foot made contact with the grass, his sense of balance slipped out from underneath him. His will to make it to safety had been set with the internal condition that he only had to make it out the door. The moment he was outside, reasonably and logically in the same location as Sebastian would be, he'd be safe. Meeting that condition used all of the will and energy he could gather. He collapsed face-first into the bushes, crashing deeply into unconsciousness.


	15. Transaction

Chapter XV: Transaction

Something felt wrong.

There were a number of fairly sound reasons that Sebastian had reached this conclusion. The fire alarms had gone off during the middle of the lecture for reasons other than running a drill and he had no way of getting into contact with Cian. It was bound to be unsettling.

He didn't have the time to dwell on that aspect for long. While he was on the grounds of St. Augustine's, he was a teacher, and that meant he had to fulfill the same obligations he just about always did when he was around people who weren't enemies; try to keep them all from hurting themselves in their constant bouts of idiocy.

For the first few moments, they stayed together and began to approach the front door to leave. A few seconds later, one of them spotted black smoke rising through the roof, and any potential order was completely destroyed in a mass explosion of panic and confusion. It took more effort than it should have to get the students to behave like creatures with the capacity for logical thought. Sebastian had to specifically pry one of them away from jumping out the window. The hesitance to cooperate that most of them showed wasn't that much better. In a last ditch effort, he shouted for them all to stop and calm down. They formed an orderly line instantly.

Once he had their undivided attention, Sebastian led the class through the hallways onto the front lawn of the school's entrance without any further major complications. The group stood there and waited, watching smoke rise ominously. Many of the students seemed anxious. Few of them were quite as troubled by this scene as he was.

Sebastian been ordered to continue acting as a teacher and not to draw attention to Cian regardless of the circumstances. That command was forcing him to stand by, with nothing to do but wonder whether or not he had made it outside along with the others. He tried to watch for signs, but there was only so much Sebastian was capable of seeing from this distance. They wouldn't have been evacuated to the same locations, so the only things he could do initially were to speculate and wait.

Then, someone started screaming for help. The voice was coming from the other side of the school. It grew gradually louder as the source approached. Sebastian recognized the voice, partly in a way he wasn't supposed to, but that wasn't the aspect that mattered. Not about to let the opportunity to check in pass by so easily, he turned to the class, ordered them to stay put, and followed the source of the plea with the expectation that he would be able to see Cian by doing so.

His expectations were met, just not in the way he'd anticipated them to be.

Cian was lying face-down in the grass, bleeding out from at least a dozen incisions in his back. The majority of the wounds appeared to be moderately superficial, with two exceptions in the form of long, knife-edged pieces of broken glass stabbing into his back. For a moment, the world seemed frozen in an instance of déjà vu that should never have occurred. An injury of that nature would have meant little to him, but to a human, losing that much blood could easily…

Sebastian snapped himself out of it with a single, quick blink. There was no time for him to be distracted by what he felt he should have been able to do when there were actions he needed to take now.

He knelt down beside Cian and picked him up, taking as much care as possible not to shift the pieces of glass when he did so. Once he had draped Cian over his shoulder, Sebastian stood up. The fire alarm had automatically sent for an ambulance in anticipation of someone being injured, so the only thing he had to do as a teacher was to run over to the front entrance of the school and bring Cian to them. He could have performed the first aid just as well as the paramedics, but he lacked the same supplies and while in the role of a teacher, bringing him to help was the most he was supposed to do. So, in accordance with that role, he delivered Cian to the paramedics. He then informed the principal of the school to his departure and followed the ambulance in his car. Just because he couldn't be the one to treat him didn't mean he had to be left behind in the process.

For about an hour, he sat in the waiting room, watching as various people came and went. Nobody knew who he was or what he was there for, and nobody bothered to ask. Rather than approach someone and make an effort to explain himself with complete lies or consistent ones, he eavesdropped on the hospital employees whenever any of them passed by, waiting for a piece of news that would be of some use to him.

Those minutes of uncertainty felt strangely somber. The crushing weight of another failure pressed down on him. In concept, there was nothing he could have done differently with the limitations he had. He'd been obeying orders. It was a perfectly valid excuse to relieve him of any responsibility. But as he sat forward in his seat and surveyed the room, he came to the understanding that excuse wasn't enough for him. It never had been.

A pair of nurses passed through the waiting room, discussing something about the conditions of their patients. Sebastian averted his attention in their direction just in time to overhear something useful. A boy matching Cian's description had stabilized enough to be moved into an individual room in the pediatric ward. That was the sole cue Sebastian needed to stand up and leave the waiting room for elsewhere. It wouldn't take very long to find where he was staying now that he had confirmation as to where to look. As soon as he did that, the only thing he needed to do was to wait for him to wake up.

Usually, a period of hours didn't seem to last that long, but today, it never seemed to end. Until he saw it happen, all he could do was stand by and think.

Something was wrong, and before it had the chance to grow worse, he had to figure out how to fix it.

The next thing Cian knew was the scratchy pillowcase of a bed that wasn't his. It only took a second for him to recognize the starkly white walls and the stench of disinfectant. He started to sit upright and was immediately overtaken by a bought of lightheadedness. He clasped a hand over his mouth and turned towards the other side of the room, searching for a familiar face. The only thing he saw was the billowing curtains of an open window, sending in the chill of a late autumn breeze.

He sighed. There were so many places he would have preferred to be other than a hospital. Nothing that happened inside of one brought anything but death and discomfort.

Cian looked around the room, surveying his surroundings. There were the usual commodities one expected to find in a hospital; an IV, a television set attached to the wall, a heart monitor, and a few miscellaneous pieces of machinery which weren't presently in use. Everything looked relatively innocuous. There were no apparent signs of a nurse, a doctor or other employee in the general vicinity. The only sound in the air was the continuous, steady beeping of the EKG. He was alone- or at the very least, he was close enough to it that he no longer had to be.

He shifted in his bed so he could sit upright against the headboard of the bed. The moment that his back started to graze a solid, non-cushioned surface, he felt an impulse to flinch. He ignored it.

"Sebastian, I command you to come to me right now," he whispered towards the opposite wall.

"There's no need for you to expend your effort on something so trivial, young master. What kind of butler would I be were I not already at your side in a time of need?"

Cian looked to the right with the expectation that he would be standing at his bedside only to see nothing there at all. He started to examine the frame of the window, partially expecting to spot his companion perching in the branches of a nearby tree. When he reached the realization nothing was there, he turned to the other side and saw a gloved hand reaching up from beneath his bed, grabbing onto the edge of the mattress. Cian's expression flattened instantly.

"You'd be one who abided by visiting hours, for one thing," he muttered as he stared skeptically down towards the edge of his bed.

Another gloved hand reached up, using the side of the bed as support while Sebastian slid out from beneath it. For the first few moments, Cian just watched. "There are so many comments I could make to this, I can hardly pick one," he remarked as he kept staring.

Sebastian brought himself up to his knees, rose back to his feet, and ran a hand across the front of his suit to eliminate any unusual wrinkles that might have formed while he was hiding there. He smiled with false graciousness. "All of which I am certain would be splendidly witty, but that's hardly the reason you beckoned."

He approached Cian's bedside more closely and stared down towards him with a momentary twinge of possible guilt. Cian blinked the second he thought he identified it. He was fairly sure that had to be his imagination filling in a blank.

Sebastian placed one knee back onto the ground. His posture remained rigidly upright. Throughout every moment that he moved, he maintained direct eye contact with Cian. "There are a great many things I have vowed to protect you from. Circumstance has been restrictive and compromising, and for that I deeply apologize… _However_, the one thing I cannot be responsible for preventing is your own reckless stupidity." Sebastian's stare narrowed in condemnation.

Cian's expression twisted in reply. He would have moved away entirely if he wasn't restricted to the bed; so instead, he stared back awkwardly in a struggle to scrounge up an excuse. He didn't get the chance to speak.

"What was it that compelled you to do something as thoughtless as running directly into harm's way, and for someone you should hardly know, no less? Was it a misguided sense of valor? Or perhaps, regret?" Sebastian paused as he spoke the last word for emphasis, whispering it towards Cian's ear with a much deeper accusation attached.

They'd both seen the girl he protected, though Cian may not have known for certain before now whether Sebastian had or not. It was a question worth asking, and one that Cian didn't know how to answer.

Using the honest statement that he wasn't thinking at all at the time didn't seem like the strongest defense, so instead, Cian bit the inside of his lower lip and glowered. "That had nothing to do with it," he stated firmly, raising his voice just short of a shout.

Sebastian stared back, looking mildly curious and thoroughly unconvinced. "Then what did compel you?"

"Practicality!"

Cian had to reply immediately in order to have any credibility, so in the rush of determination to prove he was right, he stared Sebastian down and blurted out the first word that popped into his head. It was kind of a strange process to listen to, because as he spoke, it was the first opportunity Cian had to really listen to the excuse, either.

He paused for a moment and inhaled deeply, projecting the image of dramatic effect while really scrounging up any justification he could pull together. He lowered his head, concealing his face beneath his hair, and spoke as calmly as he could manage. "I believe she has friends within the school; or at the very least, far more of them than I do. Having an informant for rumors and such will be beneficial over time. It was a temporary risk, but I'll have earned her favor in a way she's not likely to doubt, whether her 'instincts' tell her not to or otherwise," he explained, masking his hesitance as much as possible.

Sebastian smiled lightly, playfully mocking doubt creeping through every look. "And here I was under the impression you did not wish to involve others in our plight."

"You speak as if that's an option. The entire school's been attacked. They've already been dragged into it, each and every one of them- I'm merely choosing to take advantage of it," Cian remarked bitterly, clearly agitated. That alone wasn't sufficient to make Sebastian drop the subject, at least not yet.

"If she is discovered and mistaken for you, or if she is to discover you, what do you propose be done?"

"You know full well what must be done, then," Cian answered quietly, putting forth every effort to be composed, detached, and logical. He did an outstanding job of performing for the human eye, but Sebastian wasn't convinced that anything he'd just seen could be taken as remotely true.

"I understand completely. What I've begun to doubt is that you do," Sebastian stated accusingly once more. Sebastian knew that this was a simple way to make the young master lash out. Every time he spoke abruptly in a rush to defend himself, he revealed more of what he was actually thinking. The defenses he forged were interesting in their own right, but they weren't the point of the exercise so much as an unnecessary byproduct. What he needed were a few angry words and the expression to go with it, and that, he received.

Cian grabbed onto the sheets in frustration. "It isn't your place to doubt me, Sebastian," he barked with authority he was attempting to sound convinced he had.

"Then provide me the order right now, while we are still in contact," Sebastian said in return, smiling calmly.

Cian's grip on the sheets tightened, his knuckles beginning to turn white from the tension of clinging to them so tightly. "Shut up!" he demanded, gasping for breath after he shouted, being thoughtlessly loud considering that they were in a hospital. It was a good thing that most of the noise was moving towards the open window, and the wing seemed generally abandoned in the dead of night. Had he shouted this loudly a few hours ago, the entire staff on the second floor would have come running. Fortunately for them, they were alone, and it stayed that way.

A moment passed in silence. Sebastian looked down, appearing exasperated with all of this. He started to speak quietly. "You should not behave as if you anticipate me to assume everything is identical to as it was before while insisting that it is not. It is unbecomi-"

"I command you to stop speaking right now!" Cian commanded, cutting Sebastian off before he could say anything worse.

It was a command, so Sebastian was obligated to stop. He swallowed any previous retorts and remained completely still, staring upwards towards Cian with quiet expectation and curiosity. Cian didn't notice. He was too busy quivering from the compiling combination of frustration, doubt and fury to bother looking.

It took him a few seconds to recollect himself, but Cian managed to. He released his hold on the sheets. Cian folded his hands together instead.

"You're right," he confided, preparing to concede. He took in another quick breath and continued. "I'm not the same person who made a contract with you. I've changed, and I have no intention of regressing just because it's convenient. Perhaps Ciel wouldn't hesitate to eradicate someone without restraint because their presence was inconvenient, but that doesn't matter. I as an individual will not place a life like mine ahead of that of a person who has a chance not to screw it up; not when there are so few people who do."

Cian lifted his head up. His eyes narrowed with conviction. "If she has a use, then she will be used, and if not, the resource is there. If she is mistaken in the process, then she is a lure for the flies we need to catch, but she will _not _die. The only ones we need to concern ourselves with are whatever scum follows after her. Under no circumstances will the toll exceed those who have knowingly brought it on themselves with _recent_ actions. …just because my past insists on following me around doesn't mean anyone else's has to."

Cian cleared his throat. A few related thoughts were still lingering at the back of his head, but none of them were especially relevant to the situation, so he didn't have much left to say. He shifted his face slightly away from Sebastian but continued to watch over him out of the corner of his eye. "You may speak."

"That philosophy will not serve you well. It may sound simple in concept, but the lines of discretion are rarely so clean-cut."

Cian turned back to face in Sebastian's direction, shifting in his bed in order to do so. He leaned slightly forward, hunching over the edge of the bed in order to get a better view. He didn't speak back.

"Is there anything you need at the moment?" Sebastian asked in an effort to transition over to something else, if only for a moment. Cian was more than prepared to facilitate.

"For you to deal with my delusional philosophy without commenting about it. And for you to go get me a pastry. That, too," he commented back, sounding just as casual in tone but so much more vindictive in context.

There was little else left to prove in this circumstance, so Cian decided to stop putting forth the unnecessary effort to hold himself upright and fell back down onto the bed to rest uneasily. He spent the first few moments coughing into his elbow and struggling not to openly cringe. Once the urge managed to pass, he lowered his elbow from his mouth. His arms slipped down along with him, bringing his folded hands to rest over his stomach in the same position which a corpse would lay in a coffin.

In spite of the demand, Sebastian lingered at his bedside. He didn't feel inclined to go so soon. For a few brief moments, he just stared down towards his resting face, both astounded and curious. He reached across the bed and pulled up the sheets, tucking Cian in. He grazed a hand atop his head, patting it comfortingly. "You are as worthy an heir to the name of Phantomhive as one could aspire to be, young master," he spoke as soothingly as possible, intending to settle the dispute before it could get any further.

Cian's eye flickered open. He stared up towards Sebastian in return, initially surprised. Any shock that was once there faded away within a matter of seconds, passing just as quickly as it came. It was soon replaced by a much less enthusiastic stare. "What do you want?" he asked, suspicious.

Sebastian smiled back, being intentionally innocuous. "Whatever do you mean?" He may as well have tried to convince Cian that clouds were made from cotton candy for how effective it was.

"You're flattering me. You want something," Cian stated back as bluntly as possible.

Not to be outdone in raising distractions, Sebastian leaned further over the bed, eliminating some of the space between himself and Cian. His smile relaxed, the saccharine, well-mannered grace dissipating into something just as composed but far closer to mocking. "You allowed me to call you young master."

"That's because I am," he answered simply, not caring to elaborate. They were both already aware of why he'd changed his mind.

Cian leaned to his side, moving as close to the edge of the bed as he could without disturbing any of the equipment he was still hooked up to. He stared back towards Sebastian, trying to look past the image he'd created in order to see what was truly there. Every mannerism, no matter in how minuscule in impact, was carefully placed for a reason, and he wanted to see what that reason could be. He stared into those deep mahogany eyes searching for an answer, but the only thing he could see within them was a piercing stare reflected right back.

Sebastian's hand lingered atop Cian's head, his fingers catching in the tangled strands someone really needed to brush later. "I have to insist on this. Whether it has value strategically or not, you cannot place yourself in harm's way again. It is too much of a risk to wager your life on such trivialities."

Cian's eye shifted towards the sheet, his expression souring with impatience. "I'm not gallivanting up towards danger like it's a long-lost friend; harm's way is in pursuit of me. It's a charming idea and all, but that's not possible," he spoke back with the same calm, rationality. In his case, it came across far more along the lines of resignation.

Sebastian wasn't willing to accept that. "Then I cannot leave you unattended in a future emergency. If something else is to occur without my being there to intervene, it is too great of a risk," he stated.

"You can't leave your post. Knowing my surroundings is the one advantage I have and we can't risk compromising it. When something else occurs, which it will, I can handle it myself." As if trying to bring the conversation to an immediate close without leaving the room, Cian started to turn over in bed.

Before he could flop onto his stomach, Sebastian reached for his arm and pulled him back up to face him directly. Cian wasn't amused. Sebastian wasn't especially fond of this, either. "You should refrain from being so foolish. Reconstructing and escaping are both possible. Resurrecting you is not. If your life is lost, there is nothing left to defend," Sebastian argued back, starting to become more impassioned than he'd initially intended to be.

Cian reached up and grabbed onto Sebastian's arm, pulling it off of him. There wasn't that much force behind the movement, but the possibility of doing further harm to Cian if he resisted was enough to prevent Sebastian from trying. Cian retracted across the bed, moving as far towards the other side of it as he could without placing any strain on the IV in his arm. As much as he wanted to create some distance between himself and Sebastian, until he had the time to roll the IV around with him, this was about as far as he could go.

Sebastian started to walk around the edge of the bed in order to be closer to Cian. The second that he started to move, Cian shot a nasty look in his direction. This stopped him instantly. The lack of movement, however, didn't stop Cian from glaring in Sebastian's direction with the most chillingly intimidating look he could muster short of adding in a growl.

"I'm not going to sit idly by as a flag to be captured!" Cian barked defensively, obviously having interpreted Sebastian's comment in the worst possible way.

Suppressing a growing urge to snap back, Sebastian remained quiet for a few moments, attentively staring at Cian. He waited for a sign that Cian had begun to calm down a little. It took a few seconds longer than felt particularly comfortable, but with patience, the moment came when he didn't appear to be overcome with the urge of biting the next person who approached him. That was when he spoke.

"And I cannot let you throw yourself in the path of forces you aren't equipped to face. It is my duty to protect you, even if that danger is your own thoughtlessness. Regardless of the consequence, I will not let you die again. You are far too valuable for that," Sebastian insisted, being as close to honest as he could bear to without compromising his sense of integrity in the process.

Cian's eye widened and his eyebrow rose as he listened to Sebastian. Once again, his thoughts started to plummet into the abyss of overthinking, and his stomach dove down along with it. Of course he was valuable to Sebastian; as of a month ago, his life represented his freedom. Any person would think of that as being something they needed to protect relentlessly. The only value he had in this situation was as a chip in a casino, marking a bet Sebastian hadn't intended to make. To think there was anything more significant to this arrangement was a critical mistake, or so he tried to insist to himself.

Cian shifted in his bed once more. He pulled his legs up beneath the covers, bringing his knees up towards his chest, set his arms atop his knees, and slouched forward with his forehead placed against his arms. It was the only form of self-soothing he could create for himself on such short notice without being overtly suspicious. "This isn't working in either of our favors,"Cian spoke into his sleeve, the words rendered just barely comprehensible through the fabric.

"I concur entirely," Sebastian agreed without hesitation, nodding slightly.

Not entirely sure what to anticipate, Sebastian stood by for a few moments more, watching over Cian. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to offer up the first alternative, Sebastian decided to try instead. "Would you like me to go retrieve your pastry, young master?"

Cian's head moved. It may have been an aborted attempt at a nod or a shake; due to his position of leaning against his arms, it was difficult to distinguish. "No. At least, not yet. Stay. I have a proposition."

It wasn't a particularly difficult directive to follow. Sebastian continued to stand by, all the while staring down towards Cian and waiting for whatever would follow.

Cian lifted his head up just enough to pull his mouth away from his clothing. He reciprocated the stare. "Clearly we both have questions we want answered, so, we should trade them. Neither of us will be allowed to avoid being clear or twist our responses into something incomprehensible; we answer honestly with no uncertain terms."

Sebastian couldn't help but to find the idea a bit odd for one glaringly obvious reason. "If that is what you wish, then I agree to your terms... though I must admit I find it peculiar that you choose not to simply order me into responding."

"If it were a command, you'd find a way to avoid the answer," Cian replied instantly.

Sebastian couldn't help but to smile reluctantly at the accusation. "I am ashamed that you think so lowly of me, young master," he spoke back, attempting to feign innocence.

"And I'm shocked you even wondered why in the first place," Cian muttered dryly back, shifting his eyes sideways for a moment to express how unimpressed he was. He sighed briefly to finish expressing his distaste and returned to the subject at hand. "Go ahead and ask first, so you can't back out."

"As you wish." The majority of the answers he wanted to hear, he hadn't expected to hear in the near future. However, Cian had just told him to pick one without thought, so he didn't need to be concerned about being invasive as long as it satisfied a piece of his curiosity. That much, he could do easily with a single, appropriately vague question. "What happened to your parents?"

Cian shut his eye when he listened to the question and shifted away. "They were murdered by some of the most despicable excuses for people I can imagine," he answered distantly, attempting to avoid giving an answer by being equally vague.

Before he could get any further into his excuse, Sebastian interrupted him. "I'm referring to your current parents."

"The statement still stands, just as accurately as it did before. My parents were killed." Cian continued to stare away, speaking towards the wall. It gave off the appearance that he had to be evading a clear response in any way he could think up.

"If that is the case, would you care to explain whom it is that I have spent the past month so persistently avoiding?"

Cian tried to sneak a glimpse in Sebastian's direction while he wasn't watching only to be met by a disbelieving smile. He tried to look away before they could make eye contact, but by the time he prepared to respond, it was already too late to prevent. He set his hand beneath his chin and continued to avoid returning a stare. "A person can be _metaphorically_ dead while their heart's still beating. They may not be resting in a grave, but they're close enough that they may as well be. For me, anyway. That's all you need know," he spoke downwards.

"Perhaps it is all that is necessary, but it wasn't all I wanted to know. I believe it was your words that we answer 'in no uncertain terms'. Don't certain terms involve the inclusion of detail, or am I mistaken?"

There was no place to give him another answer when he was so convinced he was right. It didn't help that he had Cian's exact words to use against him. Cian didn't speak back. There wasn't much he could argue without creating even more conditions that could be used against him later when he was on the other side of this discussion. The only thing he could comfortably do for now was to sit there and avoid giving a straight answer by saying nothing at all.

Sebastian continued to watch on with a thoughtful, crooked half of a smile. He turned his head slightly away as well, but his eyes remained focused. It was plainly apparent that getting Cian to speak an answer to that question was just about impossible. That condition created a challenge, but it didn't need to be insurmountable. He had an idea.

"You don't need to speak another word if you do not wish to say it. If you allow me to, you can show me instead. Remember what happened and I can see as well," he offered, speaking as casually and smoothly as possible, trying to lure him into giving the answer he sought. It almost succeeded in distracting Cian from realizing how invasive that had the potential to become. Disclosing information about a memory and forcefully reliving it like some wayward wizard in a Harry Potter book were two vastly different experiences. It was difficult enough to speak of it; the idea of willingly experiencing it over again was unsettling at best. However, it was also his best option.

The ideas had been presented in this order for a reason. Sebastian wanted him to agree. Under most circumstances, this would have been all the more reason to avoid agreeing, but today, he needed leverage. In order to get what he sought, Sebastian needed to have a reason to trust him.

Cian folded his hands over his knee. He forced himself to stare straight ahead, his eye freezing on his target. "Alright… but, upon condition. You can't just answer my questions with words, either. You need to show me."

"What precisely do you have in mind, young master?"

There was only a moment's pause between them, but the look in the boy's eye was severe enough to turn a second into hours of waiting for the silence to be broken. Until, finally, it was.

"How can I kill a demon?"

Sebastian blinked as he struggled to process the implications as quickly as possible, and suddenly the arrangement made complete sense. Of course that wasn't a question he would give a straight answer if he was confronted about it directly. For a demon to tell a human about something like that would be to potentially relinquish their power over that person. Only a completely inept, overly confident idiot would place that type of information at the disposal of a person who could easily misuse it. His expression relaxed almost immediately after with a full sense of understanding of the situation at hand. And, suddenly, inspiration struck him.

A single, light chuckle crept at the side of his mouth, a sliver of inner ridicule seeping through. "Ordinarily that would be foolish as well as improbable, but provided the circumstances; I suppose I can make an attempt," he agreed. The slight hint of a grin on his face wasn't supposed to be nearly as obvious as it was, and it gave the wrong impression.

"An attempt isn't good enough, Sebastian," Cian said with a hint of frustration, assuming that he'd been turned into the joke.

"I'm afraid it is impossible to orchestrate by human means without an extensive string of coincidental circumstances involved. I could answer you in theory, but it would be of no practical use," he answered honestly. As he denied the possibility, that knowing smile remained perfectly fixated.

Cian shifted his position so he could better scrutinize Sebastian with a disapproving twitch. Before he had the opportunity to open his mouth and ask the natural question of what those circumstances were, Sebastian cut him off preemptively and continued. "There is only one type of object in the world capable of ending a demon's life. I believe you may recall what that is."

It didn't take long for the implications to click. The moment that the subject was brought up, Cian knew exactly what Sebastian was talking about. His mouth twisted with disgust at the idea which followed and his face went pale to the point of being tinted with a hint of blue in the darkened, shadow filled room. "I refuse to intentionally seek out that flamboyant moron for help," he stated, off-put by the conclusion he'd jumped to.

Sebastian didn't need any further details in order to pick up on exactly what Cian was referring to. "...I assure you, that was far from my intention," he said in return, also somewhat disturbed by the possibility. A moment passed of being mutually disgusted, and then Sebastian recollected himself into a serious, presentable state. He pulled up his tie and returned to the intended subject.

"A grim reaper's scythe is traditionally granted to them by their superiors. Under most circumstances, they are summoned by their designated possessor and because of this, appear to be an extension of whomever they are assigned to. Most of those who see this presume that a scythe and a grim reaper are inseparable portions of the same being. If that were true, a reaper would have one weapon that would be theirs from the moment they came to exist and would perish when they do, and could not be held by another being. This isn't so."

Sebastian stopped explaining, pausing to see whether or not Cian appeared to be following. Cian didn't speak up and continued to stare attentively. Taking that as confirmation, he continued. "This is only a theory, as it has never occurred to my knowledge before, but I believe a reaper's scythe would have roughly the same effects if it were wielded by a human. You may not be capable of bonding to it in order to summon it at will, but if you were to keep it on your person, I do not believe its effectiveness would be negated in any way."

Cian didn't miss a beat in the discussion, picking right up when Sebastian left off. "Need I ask if you know where they are kept?"

"In precisely the same location as you'd imagine they would be."

The two of them looked towards one another, their eyes exchanging opinions they were too occupied to say. Sebastian remained confident while Cian was increasingly skeptical about the practicality of the plan he'd just overheard. It sounded nice in concept, but there was a pressing, major flaw.

"They'll be able to smell a demon coming. It's completely insane to try," Cian stated, pointing out something that he found blatantly obvious. Contrary to what he was under the impression of, he wasn't alone in this belief.

There were a few reasons why Sebastian hadn't thought about this as a possibility until he was asked directly, one of which was more influential than the others. It was a nigh impossible task to achieve. Stealing a scythe from an individual reaper was impossible when they could just call it back to them, and killing one in order to obtain their weapon would inevitably end with being discovered and pursued by the entire legion of them. In order to get away with it, the thief would need to travel to the organization's headquarters, enter, locate the unregistered weapon safe, evade whatever security measures were in place, and leave with one in hand, all without being detected or identified. He was well aware of how absurd it was to think that a demon could do it successfully. It was desperate, improbable, generally mad and had never been done before. Fortunately enough for this, setting a precedent was becoming a specialty.

He smiled back charmingly, ignoring the mention of doubt. "All the more reason no one shall suspect it."

For a brief moment, Cian looked at him questioningly, as if he was deeply considering the idea that Sebastian had either gone momentarily deaf or insane. As the pause went on, his disbelief transitioned into a hint of a smirk as he found himself drawn in. "To phrase it another way, it's just crazy enough to work… It would have saved us a lot of trouble if you'd just mentioned this earlier," Cian commented dryly, his tone of voice not quite matching his expression.

"Considering your tendency to withhold information, that is hardly something you should criticize," Sebastian stated, evading the truth as efficiently as possible.

Cian huffed a little. He considered the idea of lying right back, but decided that it would be a wasted effort and looked back towards the window instead. The curtains were still flapping through the incoming breeze, rustling in the air. If he stayed silent about it, maybe there was a chance he'd get to avoid the smarmy comeback calling him out on being hypocritical that would have inevitably followed.

"Now that the matter has been settled, shall I brew us some tea?" Sebastian inquired. Cian nodded briefly, and Sebastian bowed in return. "I will be back momentarily. If anything is to go awry, call. When I return, then you can continue with your side of our exchange."

With that said, Sebastian turned around and took his leave, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click as the lock set in place. Cian stared towards the surface, the remaining fragments of his relief turning into pain and uncertainty about what was to come.

The air was dead. Not much tended to happen in the pediatric wing of a hospital at twenty past two in the morning. The room was filled with the type of silence where walking across the floor to reach the bathroom would have awoken everyone within a fifty meter radius. The window had been closed, the door shut, and a privacy curtain had been erected between the two beds in spite of the fact it was supposed to host only a single occupant. The hospital staff didn't need to be made aware of that, and if Sebastian had even the slightest bit of finesse left, they never would be.

The two of them sat directly across from one another, resting on the floor behind the hospital bed. A tea pot rest atop of a wire shelf, elevated over the flame of a candle to keep the brew warm. Sebastian delicately removed the pot from its perch, reached over for a mug and poured a single cup. He offered the unmarked white mug towards Cian, who accepted it immediately.

Cian took another sip from his tea. Now that he could remember the flavor of a full bodied, freshly picked patch of a traditional red blend, it didn't taste nearly as strong as it should have. He drank it down anyway. There were only so many resources within a hospital that it was somewhat surprising Sebastian was able to locate the necessary equipment and some tea leaves at all.

He spared a moment to gaze down into the cup. A few of the leaves lingered at the bottom of the glass, floating about inside the deep, steaming liquid. He tried to engross himself into a trance, and yet the only thing that came to mind was how nauseous he felt when he smelled disinfectant. "Is there something in the tea?" Cian questioned aloud, wondering if there was a reason why Sebastian had chosen to serve it before they began.

Sebastian stared at Cian from a few feet away, sitting with perfect posture against the wall behind him. "Yes. Sugar," he answered honestly.

Cian's eye narrowed momentarily, not appreciating the sarcastic commentary. Sebastian's smile grew in amusement for a brief moment, and faded gradually into a much subtler one as a mutual understanding began to settle in. "There is nothing unusual about the tea. I merely thought you would find it comforting, provided the circumstances. I take it this is not a matter you have made a habit of disclosing previously."

Cian slumped forward, folding his torso over his knees once again. The stand which the IV drip was attached to rolled across the floor as he shifted, following the path of motion but stopping just short of accidentally hitting him. He didn't bother to pay it much notice. Instead, he just continued staring into the abyss of his teacup, searching for an image in it he'd never be able to find.

"What is it that you need me to do in order for you to see?" he asked into the teacup, causing some of the steam to part and scatter as he spoke.

Sebastian moved away from the wall. He leaned partly inward, placed one hand above his wrist, and removed the glove from his hand. The symbol of the contract began to emit a faintly fuchsia-tinted glow. It intensified as it grew closer to Cian, becoming so bright that he ended up closing his eyes on reflex about two seconds later so he wouldn't need to look at it. Sebastian placed the palm of his hand atop Cian's forehead and moved it upwards, pushing his bangs backwards so his mark would be as close to Cian's mark as was possible without causing Cian to flinch as well. The seared symbol within Cian's right eye began to radiate a hint of the same color through his eye patch in direct reaction.

"Just relax as best as you can, young master. Close your eyes and visualize what you can. If you allow me to access it, everything which you can see, I can as well," Sebastian assured. His tone of voice remained consistently level, almost like he intended to induce a trance-like state through the influence of his voice alone. If that was his intention, he was fairly close to succeeding, because already Cian was swaying towards his palm. Either that or the boy was drowsy, but regardless of the cause, it was still going to work to his advantage.

"That isn't exactly comforting."

"The only time when this will function is when it is an active recollection you place forth a direct effort to share. I can only access what you permit me to. Decide that you want me to see, and I will," Sebastian explained with that same soothing tone, whispering warm words in Cian's direction.

Cian yawned. He didn't mean for it to happen, but the efforts to make him think clearly were succeeding far more in making him want to go to bed. "I'm not convinced that I do."

"You have already entrusted me with your soul. This is not exactly the point when one should be experiencing reservations."

It was a strange way to phrase the idea when he wanted to encourage him to be at ease, but strangely enough, Cian felt he understood this point better than he had the others. It wasn't as if he'd be showing him anything that Sebastian wouldn't eventually discover on his own. The only thing that was truly holding Cian back was his own reluctance to face what he'd spent so long trying to deny existed. He had to do it.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, allowing the noxious scent of high-strength disinfectant to overwhelm him with an increasing sense of nausea and unease. There was a good reason he hated hospitals. A person only ended up in one when something went wrong, and he could remember too many times he'd seen that hypothesis proven true.

A/N: I think I'm going to increase the rating of this fic for the next chapter.


	16. Disclosure

Chapter XVI: Disclosure

She had a smile like the reflection of moonlight against the sea; entrancing but distant, never quite revealing what lay beneath the surface it chose to show. Out of every trait that his mother possessed, nothing was quite as memorable as her happiness. When Cian was younger, he'd been convinced that he and his father were the only people who could ever make her show it. He knew better, now. No single individual could make someone else be happy- and if someone could, it certainly wasn't him.

It was the second official day of his school's spring break and the third day of a family vacation. After their plans for Christmas fell through, his father had promised that the three of them would all take a trip to spend some time away from the extended family. What he neglected to specify while making this promise was whether or not they would arrive together.

"Did you find another ticket, Warren? –Wait, no, no, no, you aren't staying behind again. You're working yourself so far to the bone that if you don't stop soon you're going to wind up as a skeleton soon. Just this once, let someone else finish the deal or whatever it is you're doing. Trust me, 'no' is a _really_ useful word when you say it at the right time," she pleaded to the other end of the phone, breaking out one of her most sympathetic pouts to coerce him. It didn't work.

Cian reached over towards his mother's arm and pulled at her sleeve. At first, she didn't appear to notice the gesture, so he stepped in front of her to block her path and tugged harder. "When we go back tomorrow, can we go see the pirates, please?" he asked eagerly, brimming with excitement for the prospect of what was to come. "I want to see a duel, and, we've gotta get Jack to sign my book. Do you think pirates can sign stuff with a sword?"

Before he could babble any further, his mother turned her head over her shoulder and placed a finger over her lips. She smiled, shook her head and shushed him. Anything else he could have had to say, she wouldn't pay much attention to, so he swallowed his words and obediently quieted down.

His mother continued to argue with the voice on the other end of the phone signal. She tilted to one side, using her shoulder to hold the phone in place while she struggled with a crumpled map of the city. Cian stumbled to keep up with her as they walked briskly down the unfamiliar city streets. He held onto the strap of her purse to avoid getting lost in the winding sidewalks and sea of unfamiliar faces.

He continued to follow her trail until she came to a sudden stop outside of their destination. They arrived just in time to see the tail end of their way home rushing away, exhaust puffing out of its tail pipe as it chugged along into the distance without them.

"Oh, crap! The last shuttle just left without us. I'll call you back when we get to the hotel, okay? Love you."

Colleen detangled the phone from her dark auburn hair, slipped it into her pocket and looked out over the streets with a deep, exasperated sigh. She straightened the map by pulling the edges and scanned over the surrounding area, looking between the crumpled page and the buildings on the other side of the way. After a few seconds of contemplating, she folded the map over to show only the portion they needed and knelt down beside Cian so he could see it, too.

"There isn't another shuttle coming, so we're going to need to find a different bus. I need you to watch for the street signs, okay? There should be a route back to our hotel right here," she pointed towards an orange emblem on the map and dragged her finger across the intended path. Cian nodded his head along periodically to show that he understood. She stood up, took his hand in hers, and they wandered out into the maze of a city once more.

It took a few wrong turns and sub-sequent references back to the map in order for the two of them to find their position in the city, let alone to their hotel. By the time they finally arrived in the hotel lobby, Cian was one well-placed shove away from collapsing in exhaustion. The insides of his eyelids were becoming all the more fascinating with each step.

As he trudged through the hallway, pulled along against his will, Cian couldn't help but to notice it was unusually lively inside the hotel. Most of the time, nighttime was quiet, but instead, most of the adults in the restaurant attached to the lobby seemed wide awake. They chattered loudly among themselves, dancing around and having far more fun than he could ever recall having at a party- and the last birthday party he'd had was one with a piñata and toboggan rides. He would have continued gawking were it not for his mother's hand nudging him into the present and the elevator.

When the doors glided open, a pack of people crammed inside of it poured out in a wave, thoughtlessly shoving past whatever unfortunate object might be in their way. His mother yanked him backwards before the crowd could trample him, causing him to jolt awake in the process. He ducked behind her for safety while they waited for the crowd to pass.

After a few moments of standing around patiently, the boisterous group of adults cleared away. His mother nudged him into the open elevator. He reached up to press the button for their floor. The doors shut behind them. Cian followed the lights with his eyes as the numbers rose across the display above the elevator doors. Up they crawled, one by one, until the somewhat rickety elevator until they reached the seventh floor. The doors jostled open, revealing the hallway and the commotion taking place in it.

A trio of rowdy adults were loitering around, shoving one another and generally being in the way. He couldn't recall what they were saying. Anything that slipped out of their mouths sounded like especially loud, slurred gibberish to him. They laughed wildly, on the verge of howling in their hysteria. Startled by the noise, Cian started to look in their direction out of the corner of his eye. He might have stopped to get a clearer view if his mother hadn't dragged him away by the arm, in even more of a hurry than before. He followed along as best as he could and tried not to stumble.

One of the members of the trio moved away from the others and staggered down the corridor. He wasn't especially athletic, but he was abnormally tall, and the length of his stride alone was enough to enable him to overtake them. By the time Colleen made it to their door, the guy was already standing in front of it, blocking the way inside.

He stared towards the two of them through pitch black eyes with a lopsided, toothy grin that involved notably fewer teeth than were typical for a person. "Why, thank you, God. My praying's been answered. …Hey, beautiful." He flopped into a lean as he spoke, towering over her.

Colleen wrapped her arms around Cian to keep him from straying off and tried to walk them both around the stranger. Before she had the chance to pass, another person approached from behind and flung his arm around her shoulder to pull her back in.

"I'm sorry for my bro here, he's a kind of idiot. What he meant to say is that we're having a little party this evenin' and'd love to have some company. It seems kinda like, impolite, not inviting a neighbor and all, so whatdy'a say?" The emphasis on each syllable he spoke fluctuated at random, indicating that not even he knew exactly what he intended to convey by that.

Once again, Colleen attempted to step aside and avoid the conflict altogether, and once again, someone blocked her path before she could. The group circled around her like vultures waiting for prey, shifting where they stood but never leaving a large gap between them. The analogy began to feel more appropriate with each passing second. Cian tried to shrink away into his mother's arms. It didn't help.

Remaining as confident as possible, Colleen maintained a steady, authoritative tone of voice. "Thank you for your consideration, but I'm not interested. It's late, I'm tired, I'm impatient and I'm going to bed," she insisted. She tried to force her way through the barricade and was blocked by an outstretched arm.

"But isn't it a waste for you to go alone? C'mon, loosen up a little!" The first man grabbed onto her forearm and attempted to shove her away from the door. She held her ground.

"I said no," she stated sternly, staring him down with just enough hostility to make it blatantly apparent she wanted nothing to do with him. She snapped her arm out of his grip, pushed past the other two and started to march away, leading Cian by the arm as far away from the vultures as possible.

As they first left, Cian could hear the group yelling more words he failed to understand, but as he and his mother walked further down the hallway, they seemed to lose interest. After ten seconds, they grew quieter, and after thirty, they stopped making noise entirely. He wondered vaguely exactly what had caused them to become so quiet so suddenly.

Just as the thought began to develop in his head, he felt an answer.

Two arms yanked him back, prying him out of his mother's grip. He tried to grab her sweater, but the fabric slipped through his fingers before he could latch on. When that didn't work, he tried to mimic her escape by wiggling his arm to jostle it out of their grip. The person on the other end grabbed his wrist, twisted from the opposite direction and smashed their elbow into his. He felt it snap under the pressure of their grip, and suddenly, moving away wasn't an option anymore.

He screamed, but he couldn't hear the noise it made. The instant that the sound started, the man wrapped an arm over his mouth, muffling the noise before it could carry.

"Let him go right now or I swear I'm going to call the police!" Colleen shouted, about to lunge forward and attack the guy directly. She was partway through the motion when the full extent of the scene came into view and stopped her instantly. Her purse slipped out of her hand and dropped to the floor in shock, its contents spilling on the floor. She didn't move.

Cian couldn't see what had happened to change the situation so swiftly. All he'd been able to recognize was the fact that it was cold, it was pressed into the indentation between his eye and his ear on the side of his head, and it had his mother absolutely terrified.

"Y'know, this is an awfully cute kid, you've gots here. Have your eyes and everything… so I don't think that's really what you wanna do. Why don't we come over here and talk instead? It'll be so much more fun, don't'cha think?" the first stranger taunted with the trace of a snicker.

Cian wanted to look to the side and figure out what was going on, but the only thing he could concentrate on was how much his arm hurt. He tried to moan. He couldn't hear the sound, just the rattle and click of something positioned beside his ear.

First kicked Cian forward and caught him by the hair just before he crashed to the floor. His mouth was clear, so he tried to yell again. Someone stuffed his arm into his mouth before he had the chance. Not about to let it pass this time, Cian took the opportunity he was given and bit him. The person it belonged to started to squirm a little bit, but he didn't let go. Instead, he chose to relieve his frustration by elbowing Cian in the gut, forcing Cian's mouth to snap open on impact. Cian doubled over at the waist, on the verge of falling.

The second flung his arm a few times to try and shake off the pain. "That brat bit me! Like a goddamn dog or something! It's fucking bleeding!"

First glared towards Second in disgust. "Then let it be a lesson- you gotta be more careful with what you put in other people's mouths. Now shut up, and let me handle what you obviously can't!"

Before Cian had the opportunity to regain the wind he'd had knocked out of him, First grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved the barrel of the gun directly into his mouth. He shifted his head towards the door, signaling for the third member to do something about it. Third fumbled through his pockets, patting his jacket down until he managed to locate the key, and opened the door to the hotel room across the hallway.

First took a few steps backwards, crossing to the other side of the hallway while carrying Cian along with him. Cian tried to move, but the crushing pressure of the grip holding him back was too much for him to struggle against. "Honey, C'mon. Don't want your baby bein' all unsupervised, right? You'll never know what might happen," First said threateningly.

With that parting statement, First took Cian back into the room. She followed. The remaining two entered after her and shut the door. The moment that the lock was set, they pulled her away into the adjacent bathroom, out of sight.

The radio turned on. The volume was turned up so high that it shook the walls, though at the moment that was the lesser of his complaints. He could still hear his mom over the sound of the music, shouting towards them to just let him go. They yelled back at her in incomprehensible gibberish. Something rattled, something else shook, First yelled for someone else to come back and help him. A few moments later, Cian was being pulled up by his collar and tossed into the bathroom as well.

First reached up to the bathroom counter and pulled off a pair of handcuffs that were, for some reason, covered in lime green fuzz. He fumbled with the chain while he attempted to unlock them with only one hand. It took a while of pinning Cian down with his foot before he did it, but he got them to open eventually and used them to handcuff Cian to the towel rack. Once Cian was partially restrained, First took the gun out of Cian's mouth. He continued to point it towards his head from less than a foot away.

"Now, if you aren't a complete fucking moron, be quiet, 'cause one of us is gonna be watchin' you. I'm just getting tired of holding the damn gun in your mouth, so this is gonna work instead until someone else comes over to deal with you. Just be quiet an' out of the way an' we'll get along juuuust fine." First grabbed the towel off of the rack and shoved the end of it into Cian's mouth. He turned to look over his shoulder towards the shower. "Hey, we're takin' runs witthis, right? I ain't gonna get stuck as the babysitter," he shouted angrily. There was no response.

Cian hadn't even noticed until then in the rush of everything else, but once he had a reason to look in his direction, he saw. The shower was running.

Scraps of shredded, fraying fabric formed a trail across the floor alongside a few drops of freshly spilled blood. Both trails ended at the ledge of the bathtub. The curtain concealed the majority of the details, hiding everything but the shadows of the people behind it. Her silhouette bent at an unnatural angle as she was pulled between the second and third strangers. She yelled, but they didn't seem to take any measures to stop it. If anything, the two behind the curtain were encouraging her to struggle so they could pull her back again.

Cian's stomach churned with the urge to be sick, which caused him to start choking on the towel. He tried to reach up with his free hand to loosen it only to have First prod the barrel of the gun into his forehead in warning. Cian turned his head down, placed his hand against the floor and tried not to asphyxiate himself.

He managed to turn far enough away that he didn't need to watch, but that didn't keep him from hearing what was happening on the other side. Every single shriek intensified within the enclosed space, echoing off the walls.

The earliest hours of the morning blurred together into an indistinct rift in time. He watched the windows fog over with the steam of the shower. His pulse throbbed in his ears, gradually increasing in intensity until it overtook everything around him except for that one, horrible sound, taunting him as her agony grew more intense. The vultures just laughed. The two rose together, amplifying continuously until he reached the point where he couldn't bear to hear it anymore.

The moment that the stranger watching him started to look away, Cian shifted away from the towel rack and tried to grab the gun away. He flailed and thrashed, desperate to wrestle it out of his grip somehow. He felt an immense amount of pressure at the back of his thread, presumably from being struck with something heavy. The bump throbbed for a fraction of a second, and then everything around him plummeted to black.

The next thing he could remember, he was staring at a flat, white ceiling, entrapped within in its blinding lack of defining qualities. If it weren't for the throbbing of the bump on his head pressing against the pillow, it would have been all too simple to think he was dreaming. He knew it would hurt even more if he tried to move, so he didn't bother. Stillness consumed the room for an undefined amount of time, lost in a buzzing silence.

It broke when a woman in scrubs and a white jacket opened the door. Her expression quickly twisted from shock into a relieved, pleasant smile as she approached his bedside. She asked him a few basic questions about how he was doing, none of which he knew quite how to answer, so he just sat there and stared vacantly back at her until she left.

A few minutes later, someone else came in to try the same thing. He didn't answer them, either. He couldn't be coerced into giving an answer when he didn't know what to say. Other people followed suit, none of which succeeded in coercing a response. The doctors tried to assure him that both he and his mother were going to be alright, but he wasn't so quick to believe them. If she was okay, then why hadn't she come through the door?

After the doctors left, Warren and two police officers came into the room. The officers had questions, too. They wanted to know a lot of odd, unusually specific details, like what time he thought they'd gotten back to the hotel last night and if he remembered seeing anybody else there. He didn't know how to answer them, either. When that failed, they started to show him pictures of people who had been identified as potential suspects and asked for him to point at the picture if he saw the men that had abducted them.

The first few photos were unfamiliar, but after they tossed aside a couple of strangers, he saw one that made him flinch and try to move away on reflex. The photo didn't have black eyes like he had in person, but he remembered the face. It was First's.

The officer tried to apologize when he got upset, and assured him that this wouldn't take that much longer. Warren grabbed onto his shoulder. Somehow, the attempt at support just made him feel trapped.

By the end of the pile, Cian managed to identify the other two assailants from the group of suspects. The officers thanked him for his help and said they would do their best to catch them as soon as possible. Then, everyone left.

They kept to their word. Two days later, and they received news that the criminals had been caught while trying to board a plane to New York. That was the easy part. It took months for the case to go through. One of them pled guilty before the case could reach court and was sentenced for fifteen years in prison and to pay some obscenely large fine. The other two were found guilty by a jury and were sentenced for life.

They'd all supposedly been brought to justice, but that didn't mean it was over. Even though the people who did it were locked away, it never brought back her smile. Nothing could. She seemed perpetually preoccupied, as if her spirit had wandered off elsewhere.

Cian took to following her around. He was too afraid that she was going to start disappearing if he let her out of his sight. When she did need to leave, he spent the whole time feeling petrified that she wouldn't come back. He never mentioned it. For that matter, he never spoke a word at all. Warren tried to scold and bribe him into talking, but it never had an effect. Nothing he could say would have any influence, so he'd decided to stop, and no amount of his father's disapproval would change his mind.

And time moved on, the same as it always did. Routines re-stabilized. Cian went back to school in the fall, his mother went back to her job teaching at a local university, and even if things didn't feel 'right', they'd developed a degree of normalcy.

Every morning, his mother would make coffee, Warren would take some in a rush to go, and Cian would sit down with her for tea and breakfast. As soon as they had finished eating, she would drive him to school. That was the way their routine was supposed to go. However, on that one mid-September Tuesday, something went wrong.

Cian was sitting at the kitchen table, watching a cartoon while eating blueberry pancakes when he started to feel strange. The images on the tv didn't seem to move the way they were supposed to. At first, he tried to brush it off and keep watching. It got worse. His entire body began to burn from the inside, his surroundings shook, and the moment he saw the room start to sway, he knew he was going to be sick.

Cian sprung off of his chair and sprinted towards the bathroom. He only made it to the garbage can before he succumbed. Colleen dropped what she was doing and ran over to his side. She pulled his hair away from his face and started asking if he would be okay. He panted a few times and tried to swallow the taste from his mouth. The bitterness stung the back of his throat. He stuck his head into the bag and vomited again. His mother tried to comfort him, telling him just to let it out. He certainly didn't need encouragement for that.

After about fifteen minutes of barely being able to lift his head up, Cian was finally able to catch his breath. His mother guided him over to the sink and offered him a glass of water. It tasted disgustingly sweet as it lingered on his tongue. She told him he had to drink it to avoid making himself worse, so he forced himself to swallow it down.

"Sweetie, you really don't look like you're doing well. I think we need to take you to the doctor. Do you think you'll be able to handle riding in the car for a while?" She asked. Cian nodded. She smiled back with forced relief. It was evident that she was still apprehensive about something, but she was trying to stay positive so as not to worry him.

His mother placed one finger into the air as a signal for him to wait in place while she ran into the bathroom. She wet a washcloth, folded it over into quarters, and placed the cloth on Cian's forehead. He pressed it in place when she let go.

That should have been the last thing they needed, so he expected them to leave. Yet, for some reason, His mom started walking towards the living room. She took a blanket off of the couch, draped it over the top of the cat carrier, grabbed the handle and brought it along. Cian tugged on the side of his mother's shirt and tried to give her a doubting expression. She didn't respond.

Presuming that she must have been so occupied with walking that she failed to notice, he chased along after her and tried to tug again. The second time, she did turn her head, but she didn't look at him. The only thing she did was flash him a disapproving stare before continuing on towards the car. She dropped him in the back seat, buckled him in place, turned Eulalie's carrier so the front was facing Cian, and hurried off again to the front seat.

Cian tried to inch away from it by shifting towards the window. The cat mewed. He could feel himself get increasingly annoyed each time it opened its mouth. He would have been a lot more so if it wasn't for the distracting wave of nausea that soon came over him. He tried to reach back up towards his mom in the hope that she might have something to help, but when he started to reach, she moved so abruptly that he retracted before he could touch her.

It was an abnormally long ride in the car. It always took a while to reach the doctor's office, but even by the standards of the normal trip, this one seemed to drag. He tried to look out the window on the rare occasion that he was capable of seeing straight. He didn't recognize the surroundings.

After a few hours passed and his awareness had grown hazy, the car came to a stop. At first he thought he had just imagined it, but then he heard the front door open and he knew his mother couldn't be driving anymore. He lifted his head up and looked out the window. Rows upon rows of what appeared to be concrete garages lined the walls of the compound like some sort of maze. His mother placed a key into the opening of one facility and lifted up the door. She climbed back into the car, dropped the key in the cup holder, and drove it inside. The second it was parked, she climbed right out again to shut the door, dimming their surroundings into almost complete darkness.

Cian squinted in an attempt to make out what was happening around him. He felt a hand grab onto his shoulder. He leapt inside of his skin, but from the outside, he didn't appear to have moved any. A hand reached across him, unbuckled his seatbelt, and picked him up to set him on the concrete floor below. He started to relax when he saw it was just his mother.

Colleen knelt down to his level, moving close enough that he could make out a few details of her face through the thickness of the darkness. He could see her lip curling, but it wasn't a smile, or at least it wasn't one she really meant. A twitch ran through it every few seconds, causing the expression to drop before perking right back up again. He couldn't help but to be unsettled.

"Sweetie, it's going to be okay, I promise it is. I just couldn't say anything until we got in here or someone would have heard me say it. They've been following us at home to try and take us, but you don't need to worry, no, no. Mommy is going to protect you in any way she can. We just have to stay here for a while, first…" She ran a hand across his cheek, pushing his hair back behind his ear in an attempt to be reassuring.

"There's no place in the entire world that's as safe as it is in here. The metal blocks their communications from working and that'll be more than enough. If they can't hear us then they can't see us either. It's how they work," she rambled, the tone of her voice sounding marginally sensible, or at least as if she believed she was. She might have been convincing were it not for how what she was saying made no sense. Her hand moved along towards the back of his head and she hugged onto him, sobbing. "I know you're worried about your father. I am, too. We'll just need to pray. Pray that he figures it out and gets somewhere, too. They've been tracking him, so we couldn't leave together, or they'd know." As she reached the end of her confession, she began to hiccup from the tears. The two of them mixed together, causing her to break down shaking in the center of the room.

Cian stayed quiet. He stood still, watching over the few aspects he could, trying not to end up getting sick or falling over from the fog his head was stuck in. He wasn't sure how long he stood there. It felt like hours, but he couldn't see a clock. Within the confines of the vacant storage facility, an accurate sense of time didn't exist; there were only moments that dragged on into an abyss of tension, bouncing back across the same four, rattling walls.

She wrapped Cian inside one of the blankets and positioned him beside the wall. He nearly started shaking from the chill when he tried to lean against it. There he stayed; sitting in the same general position for what was most likely hours on end, though he couldn't honestly tell. The only part he knew with certainty was that, after a while, he started to get tired, and he slowly drifted off into a cold, dreamless sleep.

He awoke in dead silence, trapped in complete darkness. He reached towards his side to try and turn on a light, but nothing was there. With nothing left to look to, he started to open his mouth and took in a shallow breath. It had been so long since he'd bothered trying that he'd just about forgotten what it felt like to open his jaw, curve his tongue and speak. A question itched towards the back of his throat and writhed up into his mouth, struggling to escape, but by the time it reached the surface, it was nothing but another exhaled puff of air.

Cian stood up from the floor. He huddled his blanket over him, tugging it closed like a cloak. He wandered slowly across the room, searching for the wall or a source of light. He shuffled a few steps along, nearly wobbling while he tried to keep his footing through the still somewhat present daze of his earlier illness. He came to a stop when his foot knocked against something he didn't expect to be there.

The cat squeaked. He started to move back on instinct, preparing to get as far away from her as possible, but she followed him. Reluctantly complacent towards the darkness, he sat back down, still quiet.

As the second day went on into the third, he began to realize that there was something severely wrong. Nothing about his mom's inconsistent, twitchy and jerking thoughts were like her. She sounded as if she was crazy. The longer he spent staring into an empty space over the evening, the more he began to consider the idea that she sounded that way because she was.

He awoke in the morning of the fourth presumed day to a tug on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, he was able to dimly see his mother. Even in the shadows, she looked like a mess. Her hair branched out into a bunch of frizzy, unkempt tangles, and her eyes sank into dark circles.

When she noticed he was at least partially awake, she grabbed him by the arm and started to lead him along towards the kitchen. He stumbled along at first, but after a few seconds passed and he woke up, it occurred to him that he didn't need to follow her if he didn't want to. He planted his heels into the ground and stopped. There didn't seem to be a point to this, and he wanted to go home. That was what he wanted to say. He tried to open his mouth and use the words directly, but nothing came out.

Completely missing the intended point, Colleen lifted Cian up and brought him into the kitchen corner. He tried to wriggle his way out of her grip. She grabbed him around his torso and squeezed him in. "I know it's scary, Keane, but I'm doing this to protect you. It's not going to be much longer. I figured it out how they know and it's going to work, I promise. You'll be okay," she tried to assure him, sounding generally calm in tone, but the pace at which she spoke was frantic.

He managed to get one arm out and tried to pull hers away, but the more he tried to get out, the more persistent she became in making sure he stayed put.

There was a medium sized plastic bin lying on the ground ahead of them. It was filled up with a substance that looked like a liquid. He guessed that it had to be water, though he couldn't be that certain when he couldn't even tell what color it was.

Colleen came to a stop in front of the bin. She pulled both of them down to the floor, her knees pressing down into the back of his in a position that was just as uncomfortable to be in as it sounded. She bent over at the waist, curling over in such a way that it forced him to move in that direction as well, pushing his head towards the water. In an instant of dreaded understanding, Cian realized where this was going, and his struggle grew that much stronger. He tried to wrap his legs around hers to knock her off balance, to push backwards, to free up an arm so he could reach out and knock the tub over, or at least get a little bit of leeway. He failed.

"It'll only take a minute. You just have to trust me, and everything will be okay. I love you." She whispered into his ear, trying to be reassuring.

As he was pushed closer towards the water, his mouth opened. He gasped, taking in as much air as he could. It gathered in his throat, forming a lump around what he meant to do. He tried to force the sound to come out in desperation. His lips curved into the shape and his teeth clenched together to form the first syllable. "Sta-," he started to say, but before he could finish, his head was already being forced down.

Cian twisted his head to the side at the last second and tried to keep his neck tilted up enough that his mouth and nose wouldn't be forced under. For one fleeting fraction of a second, it seemed like his idea had actually worked. Then, as the upper right edge of his face dipped past the surface, he realized something he hadn't been able to tell before. The tub wasn't filled with water.

The moment that he'd started to feel the heat, he'd started trying to flinch, but the combination of the surprise and the pain of contact had snapped it right back open, and his surroundings started to blur. He tried to blink, to shake, to knock the submerged part of his face to the side and knock the storage tub over, but the way that Colleen was still sitting on top of him kept him from being able to move any further than a shake.

For the first three seconds, it was the most intense form of pain that he'd ever felt, and it seeped further into him through the pores of his skin. Then those three seconds passed, and suddenly, it didn't hurt quite as much. It was still strong enough to make him feel ill, but it wasn't as intense, and that was enough for him to notice it. All of the air that had been stuck towards the back of his throat knocked loose, escaping in a single agonized, desperate yell.

It wasn't a normal sound. It wasn't even a word, just a single syllable. But, it was sudden, and it startled Colleen enough that she started to let go. He felt the slack in her arms, and that was the only cue he needed. It didn't matter that he was scared, that he felt like he needed to curl up somewhere and keep screaming, not if he wanted to live.

Cian pushed his arm backwards, jabbing his elbow into Colleen's stomach. Once he had managed to make her move backwards, he pushed away from her. She struggled to keep a hold over his torso, but he managed to lift out his right arm. He reached out towards the tub, fumbled to find the handles, grabbed onto one and pushed it away from himself. Its contents splashed out across the surrounding area in a wave, a notable amount of it falling directly onto her.

For the first instant, she was stunned, but after that second passed, her expression started to warp with agony. She flailed as she struggled to get whatever she could off of her. The bucket slipped from his hands, crashing to the ground. He hadn't intended to stay there and watch, but he didn't know what else he was supposed to do.

Colleen started to collapse onto the floor, moving closer in the process. She tried to reach for something in her pocket. He couldn't quite tell what, but at this point, he also wasn't willing to wait and find out. "Jeh, ge-t, get away," Cian struggled to threaten. He took a step backwards, gulping down his pain and, more consumingly, his sense of guilt.

Before Colleen had the opportunity to stand back up, he ran into the car and pressed the lock button from the inside. She'd left the keys in the ignition when they first arrived, so she wasn't going to be able to get in from the other side short of knocking out the windows to get there. Cian climbed into the back seat and started to pull at the blanket he'd been sleeping on not too long ago. He heard it squeak when he tried to make it budge, so he decided not to bother.

He folded down in the backseat in the space between the front and back chairs, pulled his knees up towards his chest and hid his head behind his arms. Without looking or thinking, he sat there dreading that she might find something to break down the window or he would run out of oxygen before she gave up.

Eulalie rubbed her cheek against Cian's shoulder and curled up against him while they waited through a pain he could hardly process until his mother fell asleep. She had to fall asleep eventually. He just had to wait. Waiting took a long time when you had a reason to be impatient. It was even worse when that reason was pain. He looked up through the bottom of the window periodically, hoping for that moment when she'd finally fall asleep. It took longer for that to happen than any other day in his life.

Once he was finally alone, at least in consciousness, Cian picked Eulalie up and placed her into her carrier. He grabbed the key ring out of the cup holder, tried to remember which one fit the lock to the storage space, and crept out of the car towards the exit.

It was a struggle to lift the door up with only his strength to do it with. He barely managed to keep it upright for long enough to make it outside, but somehow, he did.

He was fairly sure he saw her start to stand up by the time he'd started to leave, so he fumbled frantically to set the padlock on the outside of the door. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, which made it notably more difficult to do, but he managed to lock it. The door shook violently as she pounded against it, screaming for something or someone. Through the metal, he couldn't tell what she was saying. All he heard was chaos. He turned his back to the door and walked away.

Alone outside during the dead of night in an unfamiliar place, Cian moved cautiously through the maze of buildings. He tried to convince himself not to hesitate, but each time he came close to calming down, he started worrying about where he was and how he planned to get back.

He was so lost in his head that he still couldn't remember how he'd left. He faintly recalled being on an unpaved, dusty road, and how shocked he was when he came across a pay phone, which, evidently, still existed. He knew he called 911 and reported what had happened. How he had managed to give any sort of directions when he didn't know where he was and he could hardly speak, he didn't know, either. All that he could remember with any sort of clarity was that he had.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a hospital he'd never seen before, not that it would have made that much of a difference if he had. Every hospital was always the same. They had uncomfortable beds, horrible food, a sickeningly strong smell and an implied absence of control for whoever was unfortunate enough to be stuck there.

Through the surface of the solid walls, the exact words were indistinct, but he could hear Warren yelling furiously towards the doctors that had gathered inside along with him. Their expressions grew more solemn as they lowered their chins and tried to recede into a projected image of humility and sympathy. Warren's face reddened and his words grew sharper in denial, until eventually, his livid babbling began to fade into complacency. For one moment, they were perfectly still. Then, Warren took a seat in the couch. One of the doctors followed, and they continued their discussion in what Cian could only hear as silence.

The cat carrier was resting in his lap, and his face was covered in gauze and bandages from the little treatment the doctors there had given him. He hunched lifelessly over the top of it dangled his arm over the edge to reach through the bars. Eulalie licked his fingers, giving what little comfort she had to offer. He stroked a finger against her fur, distracting himself as much as he could while he looked through the crosshatched window of a door across the hall, watching the blurry image of his ordinarily indomitable father reduced to tears. Cian couldn't hear what they had to say, but at that stage, he had a feeling he didn't have to.

The door opened. Warren approached, hiding any signs of what had just occurred behind a forced, businesslike mask of apathy. Cian followed along with his eye, trailing Warren's path as he crossed the hall and took a seat at his side.

Uncertain of what to do, for a moment, Warren just stared. He didn't know the words by which to say this. After the silence continued for a while, he started speaking hesitantly. "Colleen… mother… well, she isn't feeling well, Keane. You have to try and understand. Your mother still loves you just as much as she did before, she's just ill. The doctors here believe they'll be able to make her better so she'll be able to be herself again. Until then, we won't be able to see her consistently for a while, so we need to say goodbye. Do you understand?"

Cian nodded his head in response. There was no point in arguing with Warren, so it was best to just agree with whatever he said no matter what was implied by it.

He didn't really grasp the idea that she wasn't being herself. She'd still sounded like her and been inside her body, so it wasn't as if she'd been possessed. He knew the general concept of insanity, so he knew what Warren meant to say, but he still disagreed. She may have been misguided by beliefs that weren't true, but it was her who had taken those actions. She wasn't herself because she'd been changed by what the vultures had done to her, and the person she used to be was never coming back.

Two of the hospital employees exited the room beside where Warren had been. They began to lead her outside, one of them holding one hand in order to guide her along the way.

Colleen wasn't looking up. Her expression seemed vacant, her face pale, and she had difficulty taking a few steps without pausing to breathe partway through it. Any scrap of a glimmer in her eyes had been replaced by a lifeless, vacant drawl of a stare towards the ground while she was dragged along like a tired dog on a leash. Cian stood up from his chair, setting the cat's carrier down on the seat behind him. He turned to face forward and began to take a step in her direction, raising a hand for the sake of waving goodbye. He was about to sway it when the air cracked with the sound of a deafening scream from a voice that stopped his heart to hear.

The instant her head had started to shift up, it was like a switch had been flipped. Her face lit up with a distinctly poignant, unmistakable rage, and she lunged forward. One of her arms managed to stretch out towards him, grasping towards his face in manic desperation. The doctor on her right struggled to pull her back, but she managed to wriggle past him for long enough to nearly claw at Cian's face before being yanked backwards again. "NO! NO! Impostor! What have you done to my son? Give me back my son! You sick, twisted bastard! You might be able to trick everyone else but I can tell! I'll kill you! I swear I'll-!"

Her shrieking was brought to a sudden close as the doctor on her left injected a tranquilizer of some sort into a vein on her arm, causing her to slow down into a complacent, forced lull. Her mouth drooped with the general inability to speak, and the hollow shell of a being returned to control. While she was still unresponsive, the doctors began to walk her away, leading her into a separate hall labeled as the psychiatric ward of the hospital.

She never came back from behind those doors.

Warren tried to take Cian to visit a few times on various occasions over the years. The couple of times that he had gone to the visiting room, she was never quite herself, instead reduced to a hollow, dim projection of who she was supposed to be, much too tired to do anything but sit there and make a few detached comments. Usually, she didn't allow him to see her at all. Nothing he could ever say or do would ever quite convince her that he was who he was supposed to be. In her eyes, he wasn't her son. Her son didn't have that scar.

As he was searching around the house years later, Cian found a vial of syrup of ipecac hidden in the rack of kitchen spices, mostly emptied. The moment he'd come across it, he remembered how strange breakfast had tasted that morning. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, since she was a horrible cook to begin with, but in retrospect, he knew. She'd made him too 'sick' to go to school in the first place. Down to the smallest detail, she'd planned everything that happened that day, except for the fact that he didn't die.

His father struggled to cope with the aftermath in the few ways that he knew how to. The only world that still made sense to him was the one in which he worked, so that was where he spent the majority of his time. Whenever he wasn't there, the stress of the world around him drove him to an alternative alleviation, and he began to drink. At first he'd put forth what effort he thought he could into being a parent, but he'd never known how. After a while, they began avoiding one another altogether. Warren was spread much too thin to have the capacity to be a father, so beyond maintaining a public appearance, he didn't bother. If Cian's grades were steady and he was enrolled in a proper school, there was nothing else to be concerned about.

He hadn't wanted to remember that.

Cian pulled Sebastian's hand off of his forehead and shoved it away. He reached towards the side of his face, frantically tugging at the band of his eye patch and gasped for air. The sensation of pain was psychosomatic, and he knew it was, but the recollection had been so strong that he could have sworn his face was burning. A tremble spread through him, engrossing his entire body in a light but constant shake.

Sebastian began to extend his hand, but he retracted it before he could reach Cian. He didn't want to startle him further. Still, something had to be done to get his attention, or this would only grow worse. He inched closer towards him, watching for any signs that he might need to back away. He couldn't see any. Cian was too focused on staring towards the floor for his expression to be visible. "Young master," Sebastian spoke softly, concerned.

The instant that the noise reached his ears, Cian snapped his head to the side. His eye widened with a deep-set panic as he stared towards Sebastian through the cover of his bangs, unable to breathe without feeling as if he was choking on the air. Desperate to steady himself somehow, Cian reached out and grabbed onto the lapel of Sebastian's coat, pulling him further in.

"Look at me!" Cian he shouted demandingly, managing to speak through the panic. The problem came when he didn't know how to stop. The same phrase kept on repeating, growing increasingly desperate and detached as it trailed on into a plea he couldn't stop from slipping out of him. "Look at, me, look…"

Taking this as the closest thing to permission he was going to get, Sebastian reached out towards Cian. He set a few fingers under his chin and lifted it up until the two could make eye contact. At first, Cian started to jolt from the shock of being touched, but it subsided almost instantly, fading back into the same amount of panic he'd already been experiencing moments ago.

"I see my master, precisely the same as he was before," Sebastian whispered reassuringly, luring him back into a sense of calm.

Gradually, Cian's panic began to subside, his breathing steadying to an almost normal pace. The two of them stared towards one another, past the surface color into the genuine emotion that lay beneath it. It was the first time in over a century Sebastian had the chance to see this boy as he truly was beneath his pride- in turmoil, balancing on the verge of breaking, with nowhere left to turn but to him.

"Don't look away." Cian didn't intend for it to come across that way, but towards the end of the command, his inflection was on the verge of pleading.

Sebastian lifted his hand from Cian's chin, raising it up along his face to reach the edges of his bangs. He brushed the obscuring strands back, fully revealing the stare beneath them. Cian's clouded right eye continued to glow with a faint fuchsia hue, resonating with the aftermath of their connection. That scar which marred him inside and out only made him all the more precious to behold. "Unless you ask it of me, I never will," he promised. The shared silence that followed created a sense of understanding between them that words never could.

As Sebastian kept staring back, an idea started to spark in the back of his mind. It was a horrible idea, something he should never do, but at the same time it had so much potential he wasn't sure he could resist, if only for the sake of observing the reaction that followed. One of the best ways to stop panic was to create a distraction, and it would certainly do that much. A trace of a mischievous glint passed across his eyes as he considered whether or not it would be worth trying.

Sebastian slowly moved his finger along the rest of the way, tucking the strands of hair behind Cian's ear. Sebastian's hand steadied there on the back of Cian's head. On the side where he could still feel it, the sensation of Sebastian's bare fingertips running against his forehead seemed to linger with a light, entrancing tingle. Cian couldn't find the will to look away. No matter how irrational or stupid he thought of himself as for falling for a trick, he'd lost track of the ability to deny him trust.

Cian drifted inwards, lessening the distance between them just a little bit more. Sebastian did so as well. It continued on like a gravitational pull to the point where Sebastian's face was starting to become blurry. He could feel the sensation of air grazing against his skin, but there was no warmth to it. Sebastian's breathing was nothing but a trick to make him appear as he wanted to be seen. He closed his eye in spite of it. If this was another trick, perhaps, for this moment, this was one he was better off believing in.

Cian moved his hands away from Sebastian's jacket and wrapped them around his back, removing the last barricade between them. He held him closely, grasping for whatever sense of stability he could find. Sebastian couldn't help but to smile upon the sight. He had to do it. The opportunity was too perfect for him not to.

Sebastian leaned in the remaining inch of the way and kissed him.

It was nothing exceptional, just a light peck on the lips before he pulled away. Sebastian had far too strong of a sense for his own well-being to think that he could linger for any longer, even if he'd wanted to, since he didn't know what the repercussions would be for teasing him like that.

He expected for there to be some sort of recoil; a shove, a scolding, a slap on the face or a threat to dress him up in women's clothing as vengeance, but nothing of the sort occurred. Through the entire course of the action and the moments that followed, Cian just sat there, shaking in distress he couldn't seem to stop. Mildly surprised by the unexpected lack of a response, Sebastian wrapped his arms around Cian, securing him in a protective embrace until his anxiety could pass.

In spite of the brevity of that moment, the demon's kiss made Cian's pulse pause and reprise with a sudden rush, pounding through his ears as the sensation faded away. It was the first time in either lifetime he had ever allowed someone to touch him that way before, and it left him feeling somewhat dazed and lightheaded; or perhaps that was the blood loss and the pain killers he'd likely been dosed with while he was unconscious. In either case, the end result remained. As he rest with his ear to Sebastian's chest, listening to the faint heartbeat running through it, he felt far more at ease in these cold, inhuman arms than he had any right to be.


	17. Epiphany

Chapter XVII: Epiphany

It had taken a while of faking it before it really happened, but eventually Cian drifted asleep. Sebastian picked Cian up, carried him over to the bed, and laid him down across it so he could rest in as much peace as possible. Sebastian took the makeshift stove apart, put the various supplies back where he'd found them, and returned the room to generally the same condition in which he'd found it. Within what amounted to about fifteen seconds, the only thing left to put away was the privacy curtain. He didn't fix that just yet.

For one silent moment, Sebastian lingered behind the veil of the curtain, standing just far enough into the shadows to maintain a vantage point without being visible to anyone who happened to pass by the door. He didn't blink or budge. All he did was stare towards the sleeping boy and contemplate what he'd just done.

Sebastian had only meant to distract Cian by kissing him, or so he'd been telling himself. The action sounded harmless enough in concept. It should have been like licking a donut before stepping away from the box so no one else would dare to eat it. Sure, the act was gratifying and possessive, but there was nothing more to it. You didn't think about the donut later for hours on end, and you certainly didn't confide potentially life-threatening classified information to it. You didn't _trust_ your donut. That was just insane.

From the moment they had first been called together, this child had always been special. Sebastian had always felt it through the boy's presence, but that sensation was nothing when compared to the taste he felt through his lips. It was more delicious than the rarest, most carefully tenderized cut of steak or a glass of wine after centuries in storage could ever be to a human. That flavor had no parallel. It filled a hole in his stomach to know it was every bit as delectable as he'd imagined it to be. Yet, in spite of that, it wasn't the satisfaction of partaking in a small sample of what he'd spent so much time cultivating that weighed on his mind.

He couldn't take back his actions. He'd given this human the information he needed to potentially destroy him, and yet, he wasn't worried about what might come of it. His own safety and freedom weren't his priority anymore. With every measure possible, regardless of the risk to himself, he needed to protect this child—not because he wanted to protect what he'd claimed, but because he was significant. With this realization, Sebastian was forced to understand he'd made another irrevocable mistake, but this one, he didn't seem to regret.

Sebastian reached across the bed and pulled the covers up, tucking Cian in. As he pulled his hand back, he paused above Cian's cheek and ran a finger across it to shift a few stray strands of overgrown hair away from his face. Cian didn't move. Taking that as assurance a little more wouldn't disturb him, either, Sebastian bent over at the waist to lean across the bed and planted a kiss on his forehead.

With a single, fluid movement, he pulled the privacy curtain away and vanished back to his original vantage point beneath the hospital bed where no one would see him. He was there to protect his young master, and there he would stay.

Cian awoke to a glare of strangely focused light striking through his eyelids. It made a lot more sense a moment later when he opened his eye and saw a brightly lit lamp at his bedside. He resisted the urge to groan and sat upright to survey the room in a bit more detail. Someone else was there, and even in the blur of morning grogginess, he knew it wasn't Sebastian. Sebastian wouldn't be wearing bright pink lipstick—or at the very least, he hoped he wouldn't.

A nurse pestered him with a few questions that he answered without really listening to. She referred over to the heart monitor, reviewed a few documents in her hands, took out his IV and told him with a smile that he would be able to go home as soon as his father came here to get him.

The second he heard her say that, Cian's grogginess evaporated. His eye snapped open, his attention fully seized. He turned his head in her direction with the intent of asking her a few questions, but by the time he managed to express anything more significant than reaching a hand in her direction, she'd already left.

Cian stared towards the doorframe, his thoughts set above and yet his conclusions generally blank. He understood the concept from a logical standpoint, yet at the same time he had to wonder why this particular problem was arising today. He couldn't even give Sebastian instructions on how to proceed when the nurse had left the door open. He would have dwelled on this for hours, but before he could reach anything that even remotely resembled a conclusive answer, his attention was pulled back to the present. His father was already here.

Warren was a man of average stature with steel grey hair and brown eyes. There were bags beneath his eyes, his tie was slightly crooked and his suit was wrinkled to the point that it appeared he'd slept in it—which, in all likelihood, he had. He had a very sharp, angular face and an even sterner expression. He walked across the room, his shoes clicking as their heels hit against the tiled floor, all the while staring down with a hint of disapproval.

"The school told me about what happened," he stated with distinct displeasure . He reached behind him for a chair, pulled one away from the corner, and took a seat beside the bed. He crossed one leg over the other, and in the process of doing so, nearly kicked Sebastian in the face. Sebastian shifted backwards just before the top of Warren's shoe collided with his nose. Completely oblivious to what had almost just happened, Warren folded his hands on top of his knee and leaned forward, looking in Cian's general direction with detached authority. "You need to be more careful, Keane. You're fortunate you weren't injured any worse than this. I don't have the time to take off of work and look after you, so I don't know what we would have done," he advised.

"Yes, father," Cian answered, emotionless and complacent. There was little point in trying to tell his father anything but what he wanted to hear.

"Just agreeing isn't good enough this time, Keane. You have to promise me you won't get distracted like this anymore. I don't have the time to get you out of trouble. Your mother already takes up what little energy I've got. You understand that much," he explained. Not once during the course of his speaking did he ever look Cian in the eye. Instead, he just kept his chin level to the floor and stayed focused on the wall. Cian returned the gesture.

"The doctors said that you were in good condition. There's nothing more they can do to help; just keep taking pain killers until it subsides. As soon as you're prepared to go, we can leave. Are you ready now?" It was evident from the rushed inflection at the end of it Warren was more than eager to get out of this place. In spite of that, or possibly because of it, an idea snapped into Cian's head.

"I need to use the washroom first," he lied.

"Are you sure it can't wait until we leave? It won't be that far."

"It's only going to take a moment. Just wait outside and shut the door. I'll be there momentarily, I promise."

Warren stood up from his chair, pushing it back just enough that he wouldn't need to step on the bed in order to leave, turned his back to Cian and walked away, leaving the boy on his own, at least for a moment.

Cian sprung to attention almost immediately. He walked over towards the attached bathroom and pressed against the door, shutting it loudly without slamming it in the process. Before the lock could fully set, he quietly pulled the door back open again so he could go inside later without creating an inconsistency. He didn't expect that someone would be eavesdropping in on him when he was supposed to be using the bathroom, but there was no harm in being over-prepared.

He turned around to face the bed, and more vitally to the circumstance, what he knew was still beneath it. "Hey, Crawley," he beckoned in a whisper just loud enough to carry a few feet through the room.

It took a moment for Sebastian to decide whether or not he wanted to respond to that, but after a few moments of consideration, he did. "What is it, my lord?" his voice sounded from beneath the bed.

"Slither out from under there so I can speak to you directly," he ordered.

Cian continued to stare beneath the bed through a narrowed, unimpressed eye, waiting to overhear a sound of movement. Sebastian's hand reached up from beneath the bed and grabbed the edge of the frame. Cian backed away to give Sebastian the room to finish emerging. Sebastian stood upright. He picked a piece of dust off of his jacket and began to smooth out a few of the wrinkles that had formed in his jacket. Cian continued to stare at him, waiting a few seconds for him to finish, quickly losing his patience, and moving on.

"Get the car and follow us. I'm going to school. He doesn't know what you look like, so your presence won't be suspicious," Cian ordered.

Sebastian looked up respectfully when he heard him start to speak. "Young master, are you certain that is," he started to question and was promptly cut off.

"Get the car. I'm going to school," Cian repeated with a little more urgency and much more authority. His mind was already made up as to what he was doing, and no amount of logic Sebastian might have to offer was going to discourage him.

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian agreed with a bow. There was no further point in contesting the matter when it was blatantly obvious Cian had no intentions of compromising. With nothing else to discuss, Sebastian opened a nearby window, slipped outside through the opening, and shut it quietly from the other side. One jump and an instant later, he was gone from immediate sight.

With that as attended to as he could anticipate it to be, Cian crept back into the bathroom. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands on the sink and wiped the water off on a towel in order to be as thorough as possible. He changed out of yesterday's clothing into the spare uniform he'd been keeping in his school bag in case of 'emergencies'. His initial idea of an emergency had revolved around having another tripping incident or getting stabbed while wearing one and having the blood seep through the fabric, but the spare outfit suited this situation just as well. He rushed across the room and opened the door.

Warren was waiting in the hallway along the opposite wall. He stared into the doorway with a distinctly impatient look on his face. He didn't say a word. He just lifted off the wall, turned away, and left. Cian followed, struggling to match his fathers' pace. He had to take three steps for every two of Warren's in order to keep up with him.

They stopped momentarily at the front desk in order to finish exchanging the release papers. The receptionist handed Warren a prescription for a week's worth of pain killers as well as a number to contact if anything were to go wrong or they had further questions. Warren tucked it away into a pocket, smiled politely, and wished the woman a nice day in a falsely polite manner she failed to notice.

Another few steps into the parking lot, and they arrived outside his father's precious black Bentley Arnage RL. Warren pressed down on the remote and unlocked the front doors. He climbed into the driver's seat. With bitter reluctance he took care not to openly show, Cian did the same on the passenger's side. He pulled on his seat belt and tried to look out the window, hoping the silence might manage to persist.

Warren set the car into reverse and started to pull out. He kept his attention divided between the various mirrors and the front windshield. Without even the remotest indication that he was about to, suddenly, he spoke.

"Do you think you're capable of making it to school, today?" he asked into the front mirror.

His phrasing was clearly trying to lure Cian into giving a specific answer. He chose to ignore it. There was no point in creating a fuss over something he intended to agree with. "Yes, father."

Warren didn't look aside. He set the car back into drive and turned to their right, leaving the parking lot. A moment of awkward silence ensued.

When it no longer appeared as if holding a conversation was going to be a problem, Cian turned his head further towards the window so he could survey his surroundings. More importantly, he also used the opportunity to look down the line of morning traffic and spot where Sebastian was. About six vehicles down the line of tightly packed commuters trying to find their way, there he was, driving the same maroon car as usual.

Cian sighed silently towards the window, yearning that he could have been in there with Sebastian rather than in here. Warren wasn't speaking about it anymore, but it was obvious he was still angry about having his day disturbed. At least if Cian was in the other car, the silence wouldn't feel this tense, he thought; until he remembered that in actuality, it would have. He'd been so distracted by having to deal with this problem that, in the midst of it, the more intimate aspects of yesterday had completely slipped his mind.

Cian turned his head down, concealing as much of his expression as he could behind his hair while his pulse shook. He didn't have to look at his reflection to feel his cheeks were radiating red, and he wasn't going to show his face until it subsided again. He didn't anticipate that his father would have asked any questions about it, but that wasn't a risk he was about to take over something he hadn't wanted to show in the first place. He bit the inside of his lower lip to try and redirect some of the frustration until it passed. And, once again, the silence was broken.

"Keane," Warren called for his attention.

The proper thing to do in this situation was to look up. Because that wasn't much of an option in this situation, Cian lifted his head up a little and looked into the side view mirror instead. He was still blushing "Yes?"

Thankfully, his father failed to notice. "How have your classes been going lately?" Warren asked without much emotion or curiosity in his voice. He still didn't look away from the windshield, not even for a moment to check if Cian was looking towards him or not.

Cian tapped a finger against the armrest on the door, using that noise to conceal the sound of him gulping. He paused for a moment, until he could calculate how best to reply. "Well. I disagree with my science teachers' methods, but my grades are high regardless; straight A's," he answered.

"Good, then. As it should be." Warren paused for a moment before resuming his interrogation. "Have you placed any more thought into where you'll apply for university? UVic isn't horrible as a fall-back, but I think you should apply elsewhere for your first choice."

"Of course... I was considering studying abroad."

"Harvard, Yale, Princeton?"

"In the UK. Cambridge, Oxford, University of London, so on and so forth…"

"Oh." For a moment, there was another pause, this one due to a loss of words. It took a moment before Warren knew what he wanted to say.

"I wouldn't dismiss the idea of going to the US, if I were you. It may not seem as much like leaving home, but that's also a good thing. There are a lot more options for top ranked schools if you're willing to look there as well. It's in your better interest to go where the opportunities are best and not limit yourself with conditions of where you think you should be."

"The British university system places more of a focus on independent study. I thought it might suit me better," he attempted to justify it as best as he could.

"It's uni. Anywhere you go, you're going to study independently. You should make an appointment at the SAT center sometime in the near future. They offer prep courses to help before taking the official exam. You need to begin preparing early or you'll place yourself at a disadvantage," Warren lectured, unwilling to listen to an opinion that he didn't share regardless of how well it had been thought out.

Cian didn't bother to reply. It was futile to try speaking to someone who was incapable of listening back. Warren took this as a cue that he should continue the conversation.

"Have you made any new friends at school?" he asked without much of an inflection. It sounded like he was reading from a book he didn't especially like.

Cian set his elbow on the ledge of the window. He pressed his hand against the side of his face and continued to look away. He wasn't blushing anymore, but he still wasn't especially eager to turn around and watch someone whose sole interest in him was to uphold public appearances. Warren may have asked a personal question towards the end, but it was only because he thought he was supposed to, not because he had any interest in the answer.

"No. Unfortunately, I'm not nearly as skilled at making new_ friends_ as you are," Cian commented back, dryly accusatory. He didn't raise his voice any higher than a conversational level, but there was enough condemnation in it that it was abundantly clear what he was talking about.

Warren's hands shook against the steering wheel. His face contorted with frustration. He wanted to make some sort of a comment back to establish his control, but in spite of that desire, there was nothing he could think of to say.

Another minute passed in silence. The engine purred as the car sped up, and soon came to a stop alongside the sidewalk at the front gates of the school. Warren passed over a few dollars in lunch money which Cian immediately stuffed into his pocket. Cian climbed out of the passenger's seat and onto the sidewalk. He shut the door behind him with a moderate amount of force. Without a single word more, Warren drove away, leaving Cian to stand alone in yet another awkward place to be.

The very moment that he had shut the car door, Cian was faced with a scene he'd forgotten to account for. As he stood beside the front entrance, trying to collect himself before he began to walk inside, every single student within his sight turned to look in his direction. Some of them tried to conspicuously sneak a glimpse over their shoulder and continue on their ways as if nothing had happened while others froze in place, in awe of what may as well have been a ghost. Cian reached his hand up to the strap of his messenger bag and adjusted it on his shoulder to try and alleviate some of the discomfort. It didn't help.

He would have continued staring into the sea of people if one voice hadn't broken through the stillness. Among the cluster of faces, no more than twenty steps ahead, an all-too-familiar face was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape, squinting and pointing a finger in his direction. Her lips trembled with the reflex to speak but not the words themselves, causing her to spurt out a few syllables that didn't have an actual meaning while she tried to regain the capacity to talk. The freckled girl—who happened to be wearing a boy's uniform for some reason—pushed her way through the generally non-resistant crowd and marched back over to the front gates. Cian just stood there watching her approach. He had a few ideas as to what might occur, but it still didn't manage to prepare him for what she had to say

She grabbed onto his sleeve and pulled him forward with a movement so sudden he hadn't noticed it coming. "Oi! Sh-houldn't you be at home with an endless supply of ice cream and television or something? Yesterday it looked like you almost died!" she exclaimed argumentatively, as if her saying so would make him disappear back to his house.

Cian struggled to maintain his balance and shot her a frustrated glare in hopes that she might get the message to let him go. She didn't. She stared down at him with a mix of mild curiosity and concern. "An' today it looks like it too, for that matter," she commented.

Cian snapped his wrist out from her grip. He pulled his hand back towards his torso and held his wrist in the opposite hand. His eye shifted sideways. "I'm perfectly alright," he tried to dismiss.

"You were just about impaled!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"It was only a flesh wound." Cian flicked his wrist, released his hand, and moved to tuck it into his pocket.

"Innit that sort of like sayin' it's only water when you're on the titanic? Dude," she attempted to argue back to him in disbelief he could genuinely mean to treat this as casually as he just had. When it became undeniably obvious that it wouldn't be possible to talk some reason into him, she lifted a hand behind her head and sighed in resignation with spurt of a chuckle. "Y'know, I really misjudged you. I used to think you were this spoiled stuck-up lord of all evil, but really, you're just mad. Mad an' strangely awesome."

Under the majority of circumstances, the most obvious question to draw from that admission was what he'd possibly done to give her that impression. Due to the extenuating circumstances, he couldn't fault her for feeling that way. The awkward part came from understanding why she had every right to, and probably should have continued.

"It was nothing, really," Cian tried to dismiss the subject. He tucked his other hand into his pocket and began to walk away towards the school. He barely made it a step before Freckles was following along behind him.

"You might've saved my life back there. You're really gonna try understating that?" she questioned, just as unwilling to let this go as he was to accept it.

Unbeknownst to either of them, a witness was passing by while on his way into the school building. As he'd been instructed to, Sebastian was only a few seconds behind. Having to stop at the staff parking lot hadn't helped his timing much, admittedly, but he'd approached the vicinity in time to get more than enough of an idea as to what was happening, here. He smiled knowingly as he approached in complete silence, unable to resist the potential opportunity while his master was so distracted. He stepped directly behind Cian and grazed a hand on his shoulder. Cian jolted.

By the time Cian was able to snap his head over his shoulder and look, Sebastian's hands were both at his side. He was smiling slyly, but politely, in such a way that only Cian would be able to tell the difference. The instant he saw who was there, Cian twisted his head away again, no doubt in disapproval. He was about to do Cian a favor by intervening, so he might as well get something out of the interaction.

"Good morning Frost, Lovell... It's a relief to see you are doing well so soon. We were all very concerned about you, yesterday. If you have any difficulties, be sure to mention them. Everyone on staff will do their best to accommodate for any needs you may have," he explained with an even tone and well-mannered smile that only served to make Cian more uncomfortable. The second that Cian had started to look in Sebastian's direction again, he immediately turned away.

Cian tried to swallow his heart back down into his chest. He cleared his throat. "Well, you needn't be concerned any longer, I'm fine," he insisted, almost in the verge of snapping in irritation.

"Yeah, he told me that, too. It sounds like rubbish but I don't think you're gonna get anythin' else outta him," Freckles interjected.

Each time Cian attempted to discreetly move a little further away, Sebastian followed exactly, chasing his line of sight in a duel with their eyes. After a few unsteady steps failed abysmally, Cian tried to turn around and walk away only to collide with the school gate. He stuck out his hand against the wire and latched on to catch himself before anything worse could happen. It kept him from falling over, but it didn't prevent the wave of pain that resulted from moving his body in a way its current condition really didn't want it to.

Sebastian stared down towards Cian, scrutinizing him in silence with the type of stare the phrase 'looking straight through you' was coined for. Sebastian was waiting for him to falter.

No longer having the option to avoid him, Cian tried to stare sternly back. "I say that because I honestly mean it," he insisted.

Sebastian tilted his head down slightly so he could look a little more closely without openly imposing on Cian's personal space. The gesture was calculated to look as innocuous as possible to anyone else who might pass by and see them speaking, and it did. As he grew that little bit closer, Cian tried to retract, only to be once again stopped by the school gate blocking the way. He cursed in his head and shifted his eye forward in an effort to hide that he'd tried to back away in the first place.

"No one would fault you if you were to feel abnormal. Such a sudden occurrence is bound to illicit some type of a shock," Sebastian suggested in a manner that sounded outwardly understanding, but combined with that momentary glint that crossed his eyes, it wasn't entirely clear what he was referring to. Actually, on second thought, it was pretty damn clear what he was referring to. The problem was that the subject was one he didn't want to think about.

Restraining the urge to shout back, Cian stared towards Sebastian through a glare of impatience and hatred just subdued enough not to be noticed from far away. "If that were to be the case, which it isn't, then the specifics would hardly be any of your concern in the first place," Cian stated back in a tone that was much calmer than his glare. Even though he was greatly inclined to try and slap Sebastian across the face right now for taunting him in public, he had enough sense left not to make a scene.

Sebastian's smile grew. He reached out a hand and lightly patted Cian's shoulder supportively. If it weren't for their location, Cian really would have slapped him by now. Sebastian could tell, too, and he was taking the utmost pleasure in abusing the circumstance to taunt Cian in every way he could.

"If you're certain, then, that is your choice to make. I merely wanted to remind you that the faculty is here to help you with whatever questions or needs you may have if you so choose to seek us," Sebastian suggested.

Cian pulled Sebastian's hand off of his shoulder and looked away. He didn't bother to say anything back. He knew that in concept, he was supposed to say something back, but everything he wanted to say came out as an order, which wouldn't have been easily explained. The silence that ensued may have been unbearably awkward, but at least it was excusable.

As all of this transpired, an increasingly lost individual stood by, trying to figure out why she'd suddenly become invisible for the purposes of their conversation. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but something about this scene seemed really off. She cleared her throat and approached Sebastian's side, stepping between the two of them.

"Mr. Michaelis, I've got a-" she began to speak, but cut her sentence off partway through when she was interrupted.

"As I recall, Frost, you missed the last unit test on Monday, did you not?" Sebastian asked with a distracting smile. Mildly stunned by the interruption to her previous train of thought, she struggled to piece together an answer. Before she had the opportunity to catch up, Sebastian continued. "You should stay behind after class today so we may arrange a time for you to make it up as soon as possible," he suggested.

"Yeah, sure," she agreed with a nod, any other ideas being temporarily blocked from entering her brain. She couldn't even remember where she'd originally been going when she tried to talk to him, anymore.

Having successfully prevented any uncomfortable questions from coming about, Sebastian took a step away. He faced both of the students so he could address them both; or, rather, so he could make it look like he was. "I shall see you both in class later. Until then, have a nice day," and with that, he walked away, heading towards his classroom and the work that awaited him there.

Freckles raised her hand up into the air and waved vigorously. "You too, Mr. Michaelis! Bye!" she shouted in his direction. He either didn't appear to hear her or didn't decide to care, because he didn't turn around to return the gesture. A few seconds later, and he turned around a corner, out of sight. There was absolutely no chance he was going to notice, then.

Since it was apparent she wasn't going to get a response at this point, she looked back over towards Cian. He was still standing beside the front gate, one hand reaching through the wire. The instant that Sebastian was no longer within a distance where he could see him, he stopped trying to uphold an appearance of being collected, and the resulting expression from the mixture of emotions left him with the distinct uncomfortable look of a person who was about to be sick.

Unsure of what she should do next, Freckles looked back around the corner to see who else might happen to be around. When she didn't see anything especially helpful, she looked back towards Cian again. His head was tilted down, but he hadn't moved. She bent down a little and waved her hand in front of his face to try and get a response. He looked up towards Freckles, attempting to figure out what she'd intended to accomplish by doing that.

"Dude, are you really feeling okay?" she asked, skeptical out of concern. She hadn't paid that much attention to his behavior in the past, but by the standards of any average human being, staring off into space and being that flushed weren't normal.

Cian pushed off of the gate and let go. He shifted the strap of his messenger bag and started to walk by, passing her in the process. "Yes. Fine. Entirely," he answered.

Not about to be left behind that easily, Freckles chased after him. With a few bounding strides, she reached his side. "You're _totally_ sure of that? 'Cause you don't look so hot to me," she insisted. Cian tried to walk a little faster, rushing towards the school building in as brisk of a walk as he could comfortably use. She matched his pace easily.

"And I'm perfectly content with that," Cian muttered dryly.

"That's not what I meant and you know it! S'still kinda true, I guess, but not the point, 'ere," she argued right back. It was going to take a lot more effort than he was willing to offer to persuade her into dropping the subject, so he decided to stop trying to persuade her at all.

In the hopes that it might make her go away due to boredom, he lowered his head and ignored her by not speaking back. That didn't do much good, either, but she didn't say anything more, so at least it was quieter.

They walked into the school, passed through the main hallway and arrived at his locker before his patience began to fade away into a general state of no longer existing. He grabbed onto the lock, dialed in the combination, opened the door and placed his bag inside. He glanced up towards the mirror on his locker's door. Sure enough, he could see her face in the reflection. He sighed impatiently.

"Don't you have your own locker to get to?" he questioned with mild frustration.

"Hey, let me take your stuff for you. I mean, we're going to the same places, a little extra weight's no big," she offered, completely ignoring what he'd just tried to say.

"If it isn't consequential, then let me carry it," he quipped lowly.

"…what? We have books from Europe?" she stared at him questioningly, her brow furrowing as she tried to figure out what he'd just said.

Cian's expression flattened with disbelief that he'd just heard what he thought he had. "Consequential, not continental," he specified. Once again, his comments went ignored.

"Well, either way, I'm not letting you. Just Re-e-est. If nothin' else it'll make me feel better an' it ain't gonna do you harm either."

As he tried to pull away from his locker, she reached over the top of him and snatched his books out of his arms. Cian tried to reach out and take them back, but stopped halfway through the movement when he started to feel a throbbing run across his back. It wasn't worth the effort to struggle to retrieve them, so he shut the door to his locker and begrudgingly followed her towards their homeroom class.

After the first few steps, she checked over her shoulder and noticed he was falling behind, so she slowed her pace and allowed for him to catch up. She pivoted on her foot so she could face him while they walked along. She shifted the books beneath her arm and tilted her head as a question started to form.

"Y'know, for all the years we've been in class together I don't think we've met each other, face to face 'n all." She outstretched her free hand and offered it in his direction along with a grin, hopeful that he would take it. "Name's Dorian- Just Ian for short for short. You?"

Cian stared down at the surface of her hand, hesitant to take it. He knew the gesture was only polite, but was such an uncomfortable concept to take the hand of a person he remembered killing. It would have appeared suspicious not to, so he forced the memory as far out of his conscious thought as he could, took a loose hold of her hand and shook it back. "Cian Lovell," he introduced himself quietly.

"Wow, our names rhyme. Isn't that odd." Her grin grew a little bit brighter, and that made it all the worse. "Hey, Cian, it's nice to meetcha. Let's have this be the start of a weird an' wonderful friendship."

He let go of her hand instantly and looked away. "Yeah, sure," he answered dismissively. If nothing else, whatever bond they could possibly develop was sure to include the 'weird' aspect.

He had nothing more to accomplish by staying out here, so Cian started to walk away towards the classroom. She noticed soon after and chased him down the hallways. Nice as it would have been for him, she wasn't about to let him escape that smoothly.

"Hey!" Dorian shouted towards his back as she caught up to him, jokingly offended, "you could be a little more enthusiastic about it!"

Cian opened up the door to enter the room. He took a few steps forward, one to the side, and settled down into his seat. He looked towards the wall with disinterest as she passed by. "What makes you so certain of that?"

Dorian dropped his books onto the surface of his desk with an abrupt, heavy thud. She pressed her hands against the wood and stared down in his direction, thinking. "Because... you're lookin' like I just sneezed in your face or something," she said, questioning her own description as she made it. She discarded the idea with a flick of the wrist to her side and tried to specify. "Look, I've seen happy and I've seen liars, and what you've got is the look of someone who just reached into a vending machine and pulled out a toe."

She would have continued if the beginning of homeroom bell hadn't chimed halfway through her thoughts, commanding all of the students to sit as soon as possible. Dorian rushed to slide into the seat directly behind Cian's before the teacher could scold her. The room was engulfed in a sudden silence, followed promptly by a crackle and snap as the speakers turned on to begin broadcasting the morning announcements.

"In light of recent tragedies, let us all begin this day with a prayer for the well-being of our school. Everyone, please lower your heads and continue after me," the principal's voice instructed. It was enough of a break away from the usual monotony that Cian's head bobbed back upright when he heard it. He folded his hands and bowed his head along with the instructions, peering through his bangs towards the speaker with an open, skeptical eye.

"Oh Lord, please send us your guidance. By our faithfulness may we be united, and through your infinite wisdom, may we find peace in this turbulent time. God, please bless us all, especially Aaron Hopkins. Continue to guide him to a full recovery. Amen."

"Amen," the class echoed, not quite speaking in unison, but close enough to it that the intent was there. Cian moved his lips along so it looked like he'd spoken as well, but he didn't bother to make any noise in his disinterest.

As the morning announcements began to droll into the more typical statements about school club meetings and upcoming fundraisers, Cian set his head against the wall and closed his eye. He only had a few seconds of half-hearted relaxation, so he might as well make the best out of it. Inevitably, the moment was bound to pass sooner than it should have; and sure enough, it did, though not in quite the way he had anticipated.

Cian was abruptly drawn out of his partial nap by a yank on his arm pulling him out of his chair. Dorian continued to tug him out with an admirable amount of force. She pointed towards the door, as if trying to explain what she was doing to a child that didn't possess the ability to speak English. Cian blinked the rest of the way awake. He stumbled onto his feet and struggled to regain a sense of balance he never quite found.

"C'mon, hurry up! You bothered t' come all the way out here. Don't end up bein' late just cause you're laggin' behind," Dorian urged. She insistently dragged him through the hallways towards their first period class, either paying his lack of stability no mind or not noticing it in the first place. He stayed quiet and saved the oxygen.

It was a struggle in order to match her pace, and an increasingly frustrating demand to try and live up to, but he swallowed any urges to yell and just dealt with it. If he had to be yanked along by an overly enthusiastic girl, at least they were going somewhere close. He tried to watch his posture in the hopes that it would help to lessen the pain of the wound in his back. It didn't.

The first and only true moment of relief he felt was in the instant they came to a momentary stop outside of the computer lab door. Dorian released her vice grip on Cian's arm. He grabbed it with his opposite hand, raised the limb and jostled it repeatedly. After a few seconds of forcing it to sway, he was fairly sure he'd regained some capacity for moving it in a manner that didn't involve letting it flop towards the ground like a slab of human-shaped jello. He looked back up in time to notice Dorian inside of the room, standing in front of the door with a foot planted in front of it, holding it open for him.

Cian entered the room. He took a few steps forward and crossed to the other side, searching for his usual desk at the furthest right in the front row of the room. He made it to the center aisle only to realize that his normal seat had been taken by someone else, so he continued down the center aisle to the next open row and took a seat along the windows.

The class hadn't officially begun, but certain conclusions about what they were doing today were obvious enough that he could get a head start on the more basic aspects. Cian reached one hand across the desk and poked at the computer tower's power button, followed quickly by a turn of the mouse. A few seconds later, the opening screen began to appear. He heard the scrape of another chair being pulled out from beneath the severely outdated, fading tile floor, followed by the plop of a stack of books on the table. This time, he didn't even need to look in order to guess who was beside him. He chose to take advantage of that and didn't bother to look.

Dorian started to lean in. She looked towards the computer screen first, saw nothing more exciting than the loading hourglass on the student login page, and decided to try and evaluate Cian instead. This didn't allow her to see all that much she hadn't had the opportunity to notice before, either. A comment started to crawl up her throat, ready to break the silence. Before it could shatter anything, another voice took care of the problem instead, speaking up with a cheerful exclamation and a smile that could drown a beehive in honey-coated sweetness.

"Good morning, class. I understand that yesterday was _extremely_ chaotic for you, and I feel the same, so today we're going to work on something simple- using Excel as a personal checkbook. Take out the print-out of data you should have made at the end of our last class period, combine it with the past seven, and convert the transactions you made while playing Restaurant Rumble into columns of payments and deposits to track the overall balance of your account. I'm going to pull up a model of the format on the display board as soon as I log in, and I'll talk you all through the basics of setting up your documents," the teacher explained, waving her hands towards the boards and the computers periodically, as if flailing around while she spoke would help their comprehension.

The computers instructor, Ms. Kikuchi, was an Asian girl who had emigrated from California to Canada when she got engaged to someone who lived in the area. She was young, spirited, wore a lot of short skirts and maintained a constant hold over the attention of most of the boys in her class. She also wasn't particularly observant. She fumbled with the tangled cord of the projector as she tried to plug the device in without rolling the cart around.

Noting that she was sufficiently distracted for the time being, Cian plugged in his user ID to the computer, opened up the Excel spreadsheet, snuck his papers onto his lap where she wouldn't stand a chance of seeing them, and started the busywork as soon as possible. He'd worked with real accounting more than often enough that he already knew how to do the spreadsheet without watching her give an example. Starting earlier meant finishing earlier, and he was especially eager not to need to deal with this anymore.

Cian widened a few tabs, plugged in the appropriate numbers, and pieced it all together before looking at the board. By the time all of his sheets were clear, he referred to the image at the front of the room. Ms. Kikuchi was trying to explain a code that would allow the Excel worksheet to function as a calculator, just in case clicking the calculator program from the accessories folder was too much effort for a person to expend or something. In spite of the fact that it seemed generally pointless, Cian switched out the numbers in the balance column with the associated code. He clicked save, added the appropriate file name, and less than 15 minutes into the class period, he was done.

Ms. Kikuchi continued to drone on about the various aspects of the project in detail so unnecessary he had to wonder if she thought she was teaching a school of goldfish instead of humans.

Cian pressed one elbow against the table, slid his folder beneath the keyboard, and sighed quietly into the glowing monitor ahead of him. Another fraction of time spent in peace fleeted away, replaced by anxiety, goose-bumps and a series of somersaults in his chest brought on by a number of occurrences he really didn't want to think about, but did anyway. His hand crept up the side of his face until it settled in his hair. He pulled at it in frustration, thinking far too deeply into less than five seconds of interaction than any person should. What in the world could have possessed him into allowing something like that to happen?

Cian's face started to take on a queasy shade of blue as one potential explanation became that much more likely. Regardless of Sebastian's intentions by doing so, the only way 'something like that' could ever happen was if Cian wanted it to. Cian pulled one hand away from the keyboard and wrapped it around his torso while he suppressed the urge to shake from unease.

"No, no, no," he whispered under his breath, desperate to force the idea out of his head. He couldn't possibly have feelings for Sebastian. Sebastian was a demon. Sebastian was a guy. Sebastian was incalculably older than Cian, taunted him constantly, seemed to find his discomfort amusing and intended to take his soul. Not a single one of those qualities should have made him the least bit likable. Sure, he seemed handsome, loyal and charismatic, but his loyalty was absolute because it was purchased, and the rest of it was just a trap to lure in unwitting victims.

Cian tapped his fingers against his arm, growing increasingly irritated with himself. He closed his eye for a moment and tried to stop thinking about the subject altogether, which just made the image all the stronger. He coughed into his elbow. A brief but strong throb ran up his back, causing him to shudder. He swallowed any sounds of discomfort and reached for the mouse of the computer. He was stuck here for the next thirty minutes with nothing in particular to accomplish, so it wouldn't do any harm to check.

He pulled up the internet browser and ran a search on a three-word phrase; "symptoms of love". The first link to pop up was a Wikipedia article. Since Wikipedia was undeniably the ultimate source of truth in the universe, he clicked on it and started skimming through it. The resulting list on the page (mania, depression, anorexia, stress, obsessive-compulsive disorder and psychosomatic symptoms) just left him feeling all the more frustrated. With the exception of mania, he could confirm experiencing most of the associated conditions to some degree, but they were just as easily caused by being hunted down by intangible, unidentifiable demons that would kill you in any way possible.

He ran the search again and started checking other links, scrounging for at least a hint of an idea somewhere while insisting to himself that it couldn't be possible. The more he tried to insist this, the more he was forced to realize that it was. Sebastian was close to him in a way that no other person ever had been, and last night's disclosure was the final nudge to start the avalanche. As deeply as he wanted to deny it, a tiny fraction of him wanted 'something like that' to happen again. The remaining portion of his consciousness started shrinking into his seat and blushing madly in particularly irate shame. He continued to do so until he was forcefully knocked out of it by a sudden noise.

"Hey! What'cha doin' over there?" Dorian asked in a whisper, shifting in her seat to peek over Cian's shoulder.

The sound of her voice sent a shiver down his spine. He clicked on the exit button at the top of the browser instantly. He could tell he was still blushing, so he didn't dare to look at her, instead twisting his head abruptly in the opposite direction. "Nothing of notability," he dismissed, speaking much faster than usual.

For the first few seconds, she didn't respond. Cian was filled with a sense of relief. He hadn't thought she was going to believe him when it was such an obvious lie. He took a deep breath, and with a renewed sense of calm, started to look back towards where Dorian was supposed to be sitting only to see she hadn't. While Cian was busy trying to avoid eye contact, Dorian had grabbed the mouse of his computer to start browsing through his history. Cian's expression froze. She grinned back and pointed towards the screen.

"Aw, you really are a weird 'un, arent'cha?" she teased lightly.

Livid and humiliated, Cian reached back across to grab the mouse away from her. Dorian tried to pull it back where he couldn't reach it. "Let go of that this instant!" he ordered in as authoritative of a hush as he could manage, glowering in her direction. Dorian kept smiling.

"Dude, calm down. You're gonna kill yourself gettin' all stressed out. It's just a- 'ey!"

While Dorian was distracted trying to speak to him, Cian yanked the cord of the mouse back to reel it in. Her arm pulled far enough back along with it that the mouse was in reach. He grabbed on with both hands and tried to wrestle it away from her. In spite of his advantage, it was still a struggle to pry it away. Dorian's grip was tight, and he lacked the strength to force it away from her. He leaned forward in his seat as he tried to get a better grip, turning his back to the monitor in the process.

The room was filled with the sound of a single 'ding', bouncing from computer to computer in an almost simultaneous alert. Both of them froze mid-motion, still holding the mouse in mid-air, and turned towards the display. A chat window had appeared in the center of the screen, displaying a message of some sort.

The computers chimed again. The instant the first one went off, someone screamed. At least half of the students, Dorian included, turned to peek at the person who had made the noise. Cian kept looking towards the screen. He didn't have as much freedom to panic as the others. Unlike them, he understood the second someone was terrified that the message most hadn't bothered to skim over was meant for him.

"Daniel Sullivan is going to die. Until the contractor comes out from hiding, my guardian will continue. If you wish to stop me, meet me in the dead hours of Sunday morning on the drift of Dallas Road without our guardians to get in the way. If you don't, I'll strike again, and it's only a matter of time until I strike you. –Y"

The picture sent in the second message was a large photograph of a massacred body. An amputated hand being dangled by a string took up most of the foreground of the photo. Behind it, there was the partially obscured image of a teenage boy. His feet were bolted to the floor, and he was impaled similarly to how a farmer displayed a scarecrow. His left arm was tied around the elbow by what appeared to be twine, positioning what remained of his arm in full view. Cian didn't recognize the individual, but it was apparent they were an upperclassman at the school based on their age and the bloodied, torn uniform. There were no other evident surroundings; the photograph was taken with a white curtain as a backdrop and no windows—just the wooden floor and the metal dowel driven through him.

While the rest of the room was still preoccupied with a combination of concern and disgust, Cian reached into his pocket, snuck out his cell phone and took a picture of the screen. He slipped it up his sleeve before anyone had the chance to see him.

Ms. Kikuchi yelled for order in the classroom, but it was too late for that. At least five students ran out of the room screaming, two pulled out their cell phones to start calling for the police, and a few others pulled out rosaries and started to cross themselves. The remainder sat still, consumed by shock and an inability to process exactly what had just happened until Ms. Kikuchi finally gave up and dismissed them ten minutes early.

When the students entered the hallway, the majority of them snapped alive again to whisper amongst one another about what horrors they'd just seen. Cian lagged behind the group, preoccupied by the threat he'd been given and what he should do.

There were 15 hours left in Friday, plus the entirety of Saturday to prepare. By the time school was over, Friday would have 9 hours remaining, leaving him with a grand total of 33 hours to prepare if he were to accept. He had no intention of appearing on their terms, but Cian was already certain the one who sent the message had no intention of adhering to them, either. If he attempted to call a bluff and didn't act, he'd pay for it. That message was a genuine threat, and the person who had made it would take the utmost gratification from following through and hunting through the students one by one, but the odds that a human would appear were minimal at best. As the circumstances stood, there was no way to win, so they had to change the circumstances.

As Cian walked down the hallway towards his next class, stunned and speechless, suddenly his inner romantic conflict didn't seem nearly as significant anymore.


	18. Contact

Chapter XVIII: Contact

Cian was sitting beside a wall in the empty hallways of his school, hunching over himself with his knees pulled up to his chest, when the end-of-period bell echoed through the building. He shifted his eye towards the nearest door and watched as the remaining students trickle out into the hallway. A few of them turned to look at him directly as they passed by. He didn't look back, instead remaining focused on the door in expectation. There was only one person he was waiting for.

Sebastian followed the last of his students to the doorway. He raised his hand as he saw them off and wished all of them a good remainder of the day. As soon as he had finished speaking, he started to turn back inside, but stopped mid-motion to focus on an unexpectedly early sight.

"Lovell," Sebastian stated, his tone settling halfway between an inquiry and concern. He was notably confused, and rightfully so at that. The locations may have varied, but their routine of meeting in locations outside of school was consistent—or at least it had been consistent, until about three seconds ago.

Cian kept his head down, averting eye contact for the time being. "I missed my bus this afternoon," he lied quietly, as if he was ashamed of being here; which he was, though for an entirely different reason than it would sound like to anyone else who might hear them talking, inadvertently or otherwise. He folded his hands together in front of him and stared down at his fingers. "Can you arrange for someone to take me home?"

Sebastian adapted a polite, accommodating smile towards his student, shifting seamlessly into his role. "If you do not mind waiting for a few minutes, I can see to it personally," he answered calmly.

He approached a step closer to investigate the condition the already-injured boy was in, to see if he could spot the real reason why he'd chosen to wait here all this time. Cian looked pale, though no more so than he had earlier that morning. It was possible that his injury had caused him strain, but somehow, Sebastian doubted the reason was that straightforward. He continued to stare down towards Cian, waiting for some sign of movement that would give the source of pain away. Cian didn't budge.

"Sure. If it's not any trouble," Cian agreed dismissively, barely speaking louder than a discouraged whisper.

Sebastian took a few steps closer and bent over at his waist, offering a gloved hand. "Here. Allow me to assist you to your feet."

The sound of Sebastian's voice called Cian's attention forward. His eye shifted back to the hand being offered to him. Slowly, Cian released his hands from gripping one another and wrapped them both around Sebastian's hand instead. As Cian began to pull on him, Sebastian laced his fingers between Cian's, creating further reinforcement while he lifted Cian back up to standing.

The instant that Cian was back on his feet, Sebastian released his hold, but he didn't try to slip his hand away. For one brief, thoughtless moment, Cian stood to the side of the hall, steadily upright, his hands still lingering around Sebastian's.

The second it occurred to Cian what he was doing, he felt his pulse jolt. He pulled away abruptly, stuffed one hand into the pocket of his coat and clutched the strap of his book-bag in the other. His eye darted towards the wall in an attempt at avoidance, unsuccessfully hiding his discomfort. Sebastian had to resist the urge to snicker at his uneasiness. To react so drastically at a gesture so small, it was practically innocent.

Sebastian swallowed any potential displays of amusement and continued to smile in the same, polite manner as before, with just a twinge of added amusement. When Cian started to turn back towards Sebastian and spotted the look on Sebastian's face, his eye twitched. He really wanted to yell at him for it, but there was nothing specific to scold him about, so settled for glaring at the wall in boiling frustration instead.

"You will need to wait inside the classroom. I hope that is not a problem for you," Sebastian stated.

"It's not," Cian muttered into his arms, enunciating just enough to be heard back.

Seeing no reason why it would benefit them to stand out in the open for any longer than was necessary, Sebastian opened the door to the classroom and held it in place, allowing Cian to pass by first. It took a few seconds for the message to be relayed, but Cian eventually spotted the cue and walked inside. Upon entering the room, Cian took a seat at his desk and slouched across it, hiding his face behind his elbow. Sebastian approached his desk as well. The room was engulfed into a temporary silence that not even an earthquake could disturb.

Sebastian hurried to gather all of his possessions as quickly as possible by placing each one into his briefcase as indiscriminately as he could. Though he was in the process of packing, he spent most of his time staring across the room towards Cian to make sure he was still there and still alright. Cian continued to stare off towards the ceiling, seemingly oblivious to the world, or at the very least, intentionally oblivious to him.

As he removed the last of his belongings from his desk, locked his briefcase and pulled his trench-coat on, Sebastian wondered how long it would take for the silence to shatter. The longer that he spent in Cian's presence, watching his expressions twitch in annoyance, the more he began to suspect that the boy was struggling not to boil over in public from ever-amassing turmoil. Something was blatantly amiss, and at some point, it was going to start spurting out. It was only a matter of when.

His inner pondering temporarily brushed out of mind once more, Sebastian wrapped the belt around, secured the piece of fabric through the loop and glanced over his shoulder towards Cian. "Whenever you are ready to leave, we may depart," he announced.

Without the slightest hint of a response, or anything remotely close to it, Cian stood up from his desk and headed towards the door. He brushed past Sebastian into the hallway and continued onwards through it, paying no mind to the person he'd gone to such lengths to have accompany him while he did so.

Sebastian lengthened his stride for a few steps until he could catch up to Cian within human limits. He fell into step beside him and turned his head to look at him.

"Would it be easier for you to provide directions now while we are walking or while we are driving in the car? It would be helpful to me if you began now if you prefer the former," Sebastian suggested, attempting to distract him and failing admirably.

"I choose latter, then," Cian muttered. He had an idea of what Sebastian was trying to do, and he wasn't going to go along with it.

They fell into silence as they walked along towards the car, the tension ever-rising, and they each did their best to behave as if it wasn't there. Cian did so by simply not looking towards Sebastian at all; or, at the very least, trying to behave as if he wasn't. Sebastian caught glimpses of Cian's eye shifting over in his direction every once in a while only to dart away abruptly a few seconds later. Sebastian's methods were a lot less orthodox. He kept a continuous watch over Cian, observing every one of his movements in speculation-not only about Cian, but also about himself and how far he was starting to slip because of him.

From the very second Ciel Phantomhive had died, Sebastian had been obsessed with him. Up until this instant, he'd always assumed it was _because_ his soul had escaped that he had become fixated, unable to overcome the idea of failure. That may have had an influence, but that wasn't everything. Sebastian was intrigued by his young master's nature. He took pleasure in his company; not out of anticipation of his eventual reward, but because he was a maze driven by a conflict between his nature and his position. The world made for a much more intriguing place when he was in it. To have him back, albeit with a few changes, had been both a blessing and a curse in more respects than one.

Ciel, Cian, by any other name, this boy had occupied his mind for over a century. After being this deeply fixated, devouring his soul wouldn't be enough to satisfy Sebastian anymore. He wanted his heart as well. That in itself was troubling, but still technically acceptable. Lust, even towards a pubescent child, was inconsequential by a demon's standards. The problem was what followed after—what he would be willing to do to protect that right—that he felt such a strong attachment and he would be loyal to it. Devotion was the taboo, and he was far too consumed in it to desire anything else.

He only had himself to blame for falling this far into trouble. He should have known better than to follow through on an idea as foolish as kissing him. If he'd kept everything at a subconscious level, then he never would have needed to acknowledge the attraction. Now that he had, he'd never be able to close the thought back up.

He really should have known better. Honesty rarely did a demon any good.

As Sebastian sat down inside the car to begin driving, he took one last look towards Cian and swore to himself not to act upon it. Just because he knew the temptation was there didn't mean he necessarily had to relinquish his self-control. Regardless of what Sebastian might want from a more immediate standpoint, the young master was off-limits, and he'd do well to keep it that way.

This idea didn't keep Sebastian from hoping that perhaps the reasons Cian seemed so unnerved were similar to his own. He imagined Cian trying to reprimand him for taking advantage of a moment of vulnerability, backing him into a corner, staring him down with a forced hostility until he lost track of his words in the torrent and their eyes connected once more. Sebastian would draw in close enough that their noses would nearly graze, then pull away and fix a stray strand of Cian's hair or something equally harmless to pretend the action was completely innocent. Unable to resist the temptation being drawn back out of him, Cian would wrap his arms around Sebastian's shoulders, move to kiss him, and…

When they arrived outside the generally vacant house, Sebastian reached into his pocket and retrieved his copy of the key. He unlocked the door for Cian and held it open, allowing the young master to pass through. As he passed through the doorway, Cian's expression seemed to twitch with the increasing weight of the subject pounding on his mind. He pulled his book-bag off of his shoulder, then his coat, and chucked them both to the floor.

For a single instant, Sebastian had to resist the urge to grin with the understanding that he was entirely correct to suspect Cian's feigned lack of emotion would crack the moment they had entered his home. He disguised his expression behind his collar while he picked up the small mess left behind. Sebastian picked up Cian's jacket and hung up both of their coats inside of the closet. He stored his suitcase away on the top shelf and turned around to ask Cian a question only to see something he should have predicted would follow. Before Sebastian had the opportunity to so much as ask how he was doing, Cian had already left the room.

Cian trampled down the hallway and into the kitchen, creating a racket as he moved around the area in a search for nothing in particular. Eulalie poked her head out from around the corner to investigate and scurried backwards immediately as Cian stomped by. She puffed up her tail defensively, watching him through wary eyes as he began his wordless rampage.

Sebastian turned around quickly and listened with care. It didn't take that much effort to figure out where the boy had gone when he was in such a small house creating such a racket. He chased the noise down the hallway and into the kitchen. By the time Sebastian arrived in the room to survey the surroundings, Cian had already left, but someone else was there.

Sebastian knelt down in front of Eulalie. He extended a hand in her direction. Initially, she started to back away, but as she looked up towards Sebastian, she began to recognize that he was the man who brought her food and calmed down substantially. Her nose twitched as she sniffed his hand.

Sebastian picked her up off of the ground and stroked his fingers across the top of her head to calm her as much as possible. "Now, now, my lady, everything shall be alright in due time, I promise," he whispered reassuringly.

Eulalie's tail swished. No matter what Sebastian had to say, she was still uneasy. Her eyes stayed cautiously focused on the doorway, watching the dining room along with the person pacing through it.

Cian was tearing through the house like a marginally more targeted tornado. He opened up cabinets, shifted through drawers, peered behind bookshelves and generally circled around the room in search of something that wasn't there to find. He pushed one of the drawers shut in frustration. The cabinet shook with recoil. He pressed both of his hands against it to stabilize it against the wall and muttered something incomprehensibly under his breath.

For the first few moments, Sebastian kept his distance, standing by as he allowed the young master to work out his frustrations in a way that didn't victimize the poor cat. He coddled her reassuringly, stroking her head to make sure that she didn't panic any more than was absolutely unavoidable, all the while standing beside the adjacent door while waiting for the worst of it to pass.

After a few more seconds of rummaging, Cian finally glimpsed over his shoulder to notice the person on the other side of the room. The tilt of a glare in his eyebrow alone seemed to ask what Sebastian intended to accomplish by standing there staring at him.

Sebastian grinned back as politely as possible, bracing to deal with the worst possible circumstance. "What seems to be the problem, my lord? If you tell me, perhaps I may be of some assistance to you," he started to suggest. He may have said more, but the instant that he'd begun to speak, Cian had turned the rest of the way around. He pressed his hands against the table and leaned across it, staring Sebastian down.

"Two days," Cian sputtered, his words giving out on him before he could complete the full thought. He slammed his hands back down against the surface, causing the various items on the table to shake just short of breaking. "Two days! A weekend! 48 hours, minus the nine it took for us to be stuck at school, so, actually, it's _less_ than two days. It's one and six tenths!" he shouted, his tone gradually increasing in both intensity and urgency until the moment he heard it start to crack.

Cian swallowed the words that would have followed, lifted his hands away from the table, and started to pace around the table. He raised his hand up to the side of his face and raked his fingers through his hair rapidly, ruffling the strands until a decent-sized clump of it stood almost upright. A light growl started to escape from beneath his breath as he circled to the halfway point around the perimeter, stopped, and turned back again to walk in the exact opposite direction.

Well, if nothing else, Sebastian was right about one aspect of the scenario. Cian was very clearly distraught. Albeit, the subject he'd been hoping for was completely wrong, but he couldn't always be accurate.

"Forgive me if this is an obvious question, young master, but I must ask. There are two days until what, exactly?" Sebastian inquired, remaining as calm as possible, both for their sakes and the cat's. She was starting to get anxious from the yelling and he really didn't want to worry her.

Cian, being preoccupied as he was, had no such reservation. "Until Sunday, what else could that possibly mean?" he asked in a shout across the room, impatiently sarcastic.

Collapsing with building frustration, Cian slipped into a seat at the dining room table and hunched over. He pressed the palm of his hand into his bad eye and tapped his fingers against his forehead while he attempted to clear his head of any extraneous thoughts. It didn't help. He sighed in frustration, swayed slightly sideways and struggled to convey what he could.

"A message was sent to all of the school PCs during my first period computer lab. They know that there's a target in the school, and the demon's started killing students. They sent a photograph along with the threat as proof of intent. If the image is photoshopped, it's flawlessly rendered, and the angle's so abstract I'm not even sure how they could have," Cian muttered into the side of his sleeve.

Sebastian approached closer as Cian spoke, so he could listen better to what he had to say. He paused once he was standing directly behind his chair, on the verge of leaning over his shoulder.

"If all you were able to catch was a moment's glance, what makes you so certain you are correct?" Sebastian questioned, holding onto Eulalie's head supportively as he spoke. Eulalie stretched over the side of his arm, dangling her head back into the air, substantially calmer and content. Sebastian struggled not to gush at this. Cian failed to notice.

"Because I didn't glance. I took a photo." Before Sebastian had the opportunity to ask the most obvious following question, Cian reached a hand into his side pocket and took out his cell phone. He used his thumb and ring finger to scroll across the various screens, clicking through the menu until he pulled up the camera roll. He lifted his hand into the air, flashing the screen behind him. "Here, scrutinize for yourself."

Sebastian maneuvered his arm in such a way that he could keep hold of Eulalie and also accept the phone. He peered down towards the tiny yet detailed screen. The image was clear enough that he could read the exact message as well as view the photograph attached. There was no denying that the image was innovatively gruesome. "A hoax of this magnitude may have taken more trouble than committing the act itself," Sebastian mused, in agreement.

Cian's expression dulled. "Learning photoshop takes more time than killing someone? I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he grumbled.

"I was referring to the act of restraining someone indefinitely in a location where they cannot be found, but having not attempted to use such technology before, perhaps you are correct as well," Sebastian stated in passing.

Cian slouched over further, skidding across the table until his torso was lying against the wood, and Sebastian returned his attention towards the cell phone in his hand. There were a number of things wrong with the message, but the most distressing of them to Sebastian was the fact that Cian was distressed by it as well. "You cannot sincerely be considering accepting this invitation. A request of this nature can only be-"

"Of course not. I can tell it's a trap. Anyone above the age of nine can figure out that much," Cian interrupted.

"Then why are you so troubled by a time constraint that does not apply?" Sebastian set the phone back on the table and tucked his hand under Eulalie's chin, stroking her affectionately while he waited to hear the answer. A brief second of silence later, he did.

"Because it does apply. They're right. If they keep assaulting students, then they'll find me eventually, and without a forewarning. If we strike now, there's an opportunity to plan a counter-assault and strike on our own terms without jeopardizing the other students in the process," Cian stated somberly with an added hint of reluctance. He kept his head down as he spoke, still not quite ready to face Sebastian when he knew further scrutiny was sure to follow—and it did.

"We cannot guarantee that their contractor will appear as well," Sebastian reasoned back.

"On the contrary, we can all but guarantee that they _won't_. A contractor 'clever' enough to try a scheme like this wouldn't take that risk."

"I cannot allow you to go on your own, regardless of what you feel it may gain us. It would jeopardize your safety to do so."

"I know that, too. Even with you present as well, this is reckless," Cian sighed briefly towards the table, not quite able to think this through the way he intended to. "But this is the only predictable opportunity we'll have to identify the demon. If I come out of hiding, they will assault me. We have that much time to reverse their advantage. One can't win a game based on defense alone. We need to strike—here, now, and by whatever means necessary to do so."

Cian moved his hand across the table, grabbing onto the edge in an effort to distract himself while he finished explaining. "I've been trying to come up with alternatives, but none of them work. Without a hint of the contractor's identity, we can't create leverage, so assaulting the vulnerable side isn't possible. If we're to stand any chance, we need to be able to strike the demon itself. We need a scythe, and we have 36 hours to take one."

Cian's hand tensed against the edge of the table, clutching it for some sense of stability while he tried to finish reasoning through the absolutely ridiculous thing he'd just said. Just last night, he was told about a long-shot idea, something that had never been done before, and now he was betting on it as the only way to save his life and Sebastian's freedom. It was such a desperate leap in judgment that he hardly wanted to believe that he was making it, but no matter what he tried to tell himself, it was the best plan he had left. At the moment, it was the only plan he had left.

He sighed briefly and awaited Sebastian's seemingly inevitable retort. He'd just made an entirely unreasonable request, and Sebastian was so skilled at poking holes in every single thing he said that this particular idea was just asking to be ripped apart. It should have been a prime target for mocking, and yet, there was no reply.

Curious to see the expression on the presumably puzzled demon's face, Cian pushed off of the table and lifted himself upright to take a peek. What he saw was far from what he expected. While he'd been busy ranting, Sebastian had been occupied lavishing affection on the cat. He nestled her up to his chest and leaned over her protectively, stroking his hand against her back in adoration with what appeared to be the majority of his attention.

A twitch ran across Cian's face as the restraint on his frustration snapped instantly. He clenched his teeth, glaring daggers towards Sebastian, who either didn't appear to notice or was completely indifferent to the piercing stare digging deeper into the back of his neck. "You insolent, egocentric, opportunistic void of wasted potential, take this problem seriously! It's your fault I'm stuck in this whole bloody scenario, and yet you continue to behave as if you don't owe me a scrap of your attention! I won't allow your inability to process the concept of an actual threat to get me killed again!"

Cian paused for a moment to catch his breath. Sebastian had started to look in his direction, his attention generally focused, though he was still smiling and his hand was resting against the back of Eulalie's head, scratching behind her ear. The sight of him behaving so nonchalantly at a time such as this one brought Cian's already simmering blood to a full, bubbling boil.

"And stop petting the cat when you should be petting-!"

His throat tightened when the words reached his ears, closing the misstated thought off before it could continue. Cian coughed as he tried not to choke on his own words. He raised a hand over his mouth to help disguise his expression as he regained the capacity to speak. "I mean, paying attention!" he shouted with even more fury than before, although most of the frustration included in that statement was there for an entirely different reason best summarized by the deep, frustrated blush that had followed.

Sebastian had to struggle not to grin, a slew of possible comebacks flooding into his mind. He lifted his hand away from Eulalie as per the instructions he'd been given, corrected his moment of a sly smile into a much more respectful, uniform expression and bowed slightly. "If that is what you desire, my lord, I will gladly oblige," he offered in as respectful of a tone as was possible.

Cian glowered furiously. "That's- not-!" he started to argue, but he lost his words long before he could reach a proper conclusion. Sebastian just kept smiling.

"If you are jealous of milady then it is best you simply say so, rather than perpetuating such misunderstandings," Sebastian stated with an overly reassuring grin. He didn't need to be malicious in order to convey what he'd wanted to.

Cian stared towards Sebastian with a dispassionate, disbelieving absence of an expression, doing his best to detract from the continuously darkening blush across his cheeks. "Like I said, you aren't taking this situation seriously at all!"

Sebastian raised his hand towards his chest and unflinchingly stood his ground. "There is no reason you need allow yourself to get this upset over a matter this trivial," he started to explain.

Cian cut him off before he could finish. "-You're holding an entirely separate conversation on purpose, aren't you?"

"I merely intended to address a problem you raised to my awareness," Sebastian tried to rationalize. Cian crossed his arms. His forehead and the bridge of his nose furrowed with further scrutiny Sebastian wasn't the least bit surprised to spot.

"And I merely intend to stick you out on the front lawn inside of an inflatable snow globe with a gallon of confetti to watch you choke on scraps of foil if you continue to pretend you don't know exactly what I'm talking about," Cian remarked in as much of a deadpan as was possible.

Now that he'd gotten at least one well-placed remark into the conversation, Sebastian was able to bring himself to concede. He stepped away from the dining area into the family room, kneeled onto the floor, and gently set Eulalie down. She scurried off elsewhere, claiming her usual perch atop the couch, and sat upright to watch the rest of the scene from a safe distance away.

Once Eulalie was settled, Sebastian stepped back into the dining area. He circled around the perimeter of the table, gradually approaching closer to where Cian stood until there was nothing but a few feet between them. He continued to bend over slightly at his waist, using the tilt in order to encroach into the boy's personal space without standing directly beside him. "An incidence of paraphraxis is indicative of an unconscious conflict. I thought that by speaking of it directly, we could resolve the underlying issue," Sebastian explained, blatantly rationalizing his actions with something he probably didn't mean.

The moment that he heard Sebastian speak, Cian twisted his head away with a huff and broke eye contact with him. "I'm still partial to the Christmas decor, not underestimating the threat to come, and living. I especially like that last one, there. Keeps me going from one day to the next, living," he remarked.

Sebastian didn't bother to press the issue any further. If he continued to ignore the subject altogether, and Cian would, he'd just witnessed the best reaction he had any hopes of getting, so he was better off being satisfied with what rises he'd managed to draw out of him and moving on to more important matters. "I find I'm partial to that as well, as are most people. Whatever else you may wish to convey, you have my full attention," Sebastian stated.

Mildly surprised that Sebastian had conceded so quickly, Cian blinked as he finished processing what he'd just heard. Once the idea settled in, Cian pressed his hands off of the table and stood up from his chair, turning back to face him once more.

"There's nothing more I need say that I haven't already. You know what we need to do, Sebastian. Now tell me where we need to go," Cian demanded.

As Cian finally raised his head, Sebastian lowered his. "I am afraid, my lord, that is not a question to which I know the answer. While we may intersect in the human word, the home realms of demons and reapers are indubitably separate. I am not aware of where one would go in order to procure such a thing," Sebastian answered, being completely genuine and entirely serious.

"Then to whom do you suggest we refer to discover this answer? I take it we aren't going to start presuming Grell is a good resource," Cian asked in return.

Sebastian smiled slyly. "You are correct. The contact whom I had in mind is far less troublesome to do business with, and I believe he shall be quite amused to see you outside of a coffin once more."

It took a moment of silent contemplation for Cian to start to catch on to what Sebastian was implying. When he did, his eyebrow began to rise in questioning. He fought against the urge to ask how he could still be alive and if he even possessed any relevant information. Both of these questions cancelled each other out with a single assumption that Sebastian wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't possible, which instead lead to another, much more relevant statement.

"It's halfway across the country. We don't have the time to fly to London."

"I never suggested we fly to London. The times have changed, and thus, so can one's means. All one requires are an address, a personal computer and a camera, and it will do just as well," Sebastian suggested, trying to hint at an idea Cian would have understood a lot better if Sebastian wasn't trying to explain technology he hadn't spent much time around.

"When did you manage to find his IM address?" Cian asked, incredulous and mildly confused as to how it might have happened when Sebastian so clearly barely knew the terminology to use for a computer, let alone how to gain access to information from one.

Sebastian just kept on smiling. "Thus far, I have not, but I assure you, it will not take me long to find out if you allow me to do so," he promised.

Cian noted to himself this was quite the presumption for Sebastian to make. If he was just speaking about a phone number, then maybe, but to assume someone who must have been around for at least a century and a third to adjust into new technology well enough to own and operate a computer with webcam compatibility was a real leap in logic. He stayed quiet, debating how unreasonable the idea sounded. It was a long-shot, but the possibility's ridiculousness only made him feel all the more curious to see Sebastian try.

"If you do not mind, sir, may I please borrow the computer?" Sebastian asked. He would have already dismissed himself, but as per the household rules, he needed permission before he could do so.

Cian blinked. He turned his head to the side dismissively. "Yeah, sure."

With the young master's consent given, Sebastian walked away from the dining room table and up the staircase into the study.

Cian pushed the chair he had been sitting in back underneath the table and swiftly followed along after him to see what he would do. Whenever Sebastian had searched for information in the past, especially information that seemed nigh-impossible to access, he'd reappeared so quickly that there was no time to understand how he got it, so Cian was curious to see what superhuman feat he would engage in this time.

By the time Cian came to a stop behind the office chair in the study, the computer monitor was set aglow, displaying the swirling, blue start-up screen. Sebastian waited about a minute for it to finish loading. Once it had, he plugged in the webcam, pulled up a web browser and ran a search on the internet. His fingers ran across the keyboard at a pace so swift one could hardly believe that he was typing at all, but regardless of the pace or the flair with which he performed the action, nothing could detract from the fact that Sebastian's act of inhuman brilliance was to run a search through Google. Cian's expression dropped, unimpressed and a little more stunned than he wanted to be. If he'd known it was going to be that simple he could have done it himself.

A few moments of random searching passed, and the rapid clicking came to an eventual stop. Sebastian sat upright, leaning just far enough away from the screen that Cian could easily see the address on the other side of it. Cian glimpsed it over briefly. He pointed a finger towards an icon on the desktop, stopping just short of touching the screen.

"Run the connection through a proxy server before you try to contact him," he ordered.

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian answered, and began to do as he was asked.

As Sebastian was occupied fulfilling his request, Cian began to ponder the conversation they were just about to have. It was the first time he would need to contact someone other than Sebastian from his previous life who was supposed to also remember him. The concept caused a sense of doubt to lodge into his mind. There was no doubt in his mind that he looked eerily similar to how he had a century and a few odd decades ago, but when that much time had passed, he could anticipate his own memories to be skewed.

Cian raised a hand to the side of his hair and brushed a few strands of his bangs over his face. "Sebastian, do you think I'll look, recognizable as myself?" he questioned, uncertain.

Sebastian turned away from the screen and looked directly towards Cian, scrutinizing his appearance in every possible way before stating a conclusion. "It is his memory which is at fault if you do not; However, it may not do us harm to _encourage_ the association through which aspects we can control," Sebastian suggested while glancing down towards Cian's clothing, a contemplative gaze set across his eyes. He didn't need to say another word in order for Cian to understand precisely what idea he was getting at.

"I suppose it wouldn't do any harm, if nothing else," Cian agreed dispassionately. He wasn't completely convinced that it would be of any genuine assistance when it was just as possible he'd come across as trying too hard, but he couldn't deny that the concept seemed logical enough. He began to move away from his desk and stopped before he could. Before he could possibly change into one of the outfits he'd made, he needed to know where Sebastian had put them.

Cian turned towards Sebastian and opened his mouth, on the verge of asking his question when Sebastian beat him to the answer. "I moved the majority of your wardrobe into the guest room closet along with the sewing machine and its various components. You should be able to find it there. If you require any assistance, I would be happy to do so," he suggested.

Cian's eye narrowed, far from amused by either suggestion. He twitched. "If you want to help, go rent yourself a tux out of the abyss you pull your clothing out of. I'm not the only one amongst us who has a face to recognize. And move the computer into my room. We wouldn't want to be stumbled upon by unwelcome visitors."

Before Sebastian had the chance to get in some sort of clever retort, Cian turned away and left for the basement to change. They only had so much time to accomplish this task in—he was better off not squandering it being bitter.

Cian stood in front of a full length mirror in the guest bedroom, holding a hanger of clothing up to his chest. He shifted his hand from one side to the other, adjusting the position of the jacket until it finally aligned with his torso. A few glances at it from various angles determined that it appeared to be about the right size, so he took it off of the hanger and hastily slipped the buttons up, fastening the ulster-influenced overcoat over the rest of his uniform. He slipped the matching boot covers over the top of the solid black shoes, grabbed the matching top hat from the closet, set it atop his head, and turned back towards the mirror.

It hadn't fully hit him until he saw the teal coat for himself that it was an exact replica of another jacket he'd worn over a century ago. The feel of the fabric was different, and the under layer certainly hadn't been made to zip up before, but the concept was similar and the resemblance was flawless. When he looked towards his reflection, he didn't see a young teenager in Canada playing dress-up in his basement while no one else was there to see him; he saw a nobleman.

Cian stared into the mirror with an increasing determination. He let out one quick puff of air, folded his hands in front of him, trying not to pay any mind to the absence of the family rings on his fingers, and collected himself to the point of being presentable.

"My name is Ciel Phantomhive," he whispered under his breath, trying to hear if he could still sound the same. He had the same voice, so in theory it should have worked, but as his tongue struck against his teeth, the syllables didn't sound quite right.

He cleared his throat. "My name is Ciel Phantomhive," he repeated with slightly more volume but not that much more success.

He growled lightly in frustration. Saying his name should've been simple. He knew how to speak. It wasn't as if this was another language, and he'd done it so many times before. All he had to do was sound like himself, and yet, the accent sounded so out of place that it didn't work. He took the hat off of his head and tilted his chin down, glaring towards the mirror with hostility.

"My name is Ciel Phantomhive, and I can speak with my own ruddy accent!" he demanded, stomping his foot against the floor while he spoke. His eye widened as the words began to register in his head. To his pleasant surprise, that one seemed to work.

Satisfied with the result, at least for the time being, he placed his hat back atop his head and walked properly up the stairs, around the corner and into his bedroom, where he knew his butler was awaiting him.

When Cian opened up the door, a small portion of his mind instantly registered the scene as very strange. It may have been the contrast between the starkly modern furniture, plain lightning and glowing computer monitor in the background, but the sight of Sebastian standing there dressed in his full uniform, swallowtail coat and all, staring expectantly towards the door, was somewhat startling.

Sebastian placed the tray down upon the table, freeing his hands so he could pull the chair away from the desk and turn it towards Cian. "Good afternoon, young master. It is a relief to see that you have arrived safely and in good time," Sebastian told him, also having adopted the accent he'd stopped using lately for the sake of blending in.

"I hadn't honestly expected you to change," Cian commented dryly as he walked into the room.

"You suggested that I do so. Your point was valid. If you are to play the part, then it is only right that I do so as well."

Cian glimpsed over him with a brief, skeptical analysis of his condition before reaching the conclusion that it didn't really matter. "Very well. Whatever suits you, I suppose," he dismissed.

He took a seat in the center chair, crossed one leg over the other as he settled in, and swiveled to face the center of the computer monitor. Sebastian pushed Cian's seat in towards the desk, stopping just short of hitting his leg against the ledge.

"You need not change your pattern of speech if it is an inconvenience to you," Sebastian suggested.

Cian turned his head in Sebastian's direction and stared at him with a complete lack of passion or interest. "It's not. And if it were, you wouldn't need to bother doing so, either," he commented back.

"It was merely a suggestion. I thought it might be potentially troublesome."

Cian set his elbow against the table and leaned against his hand. "There are far more troubling things I've had to deal with than adjusting my accent. This is fine," he insisted stubbornly.

The program needed to make the call was set up and the address entered. The only thing Cian had to do was press the button. So, he extended his hand towards the mouse and clicked it.

The speakers rang with the sound of a dial tone attempting to connect with the other side. The difference in time zones meant that there was a decent possibility their intended contact might not be online. It was midnight in London, and there were plenty of people who had the sense to go to bed by then. Thankfully and conveniently, as the dial tone's transition into a brief, steady ding served to indicate, the individual they sought to speak with was not one of them.

For the first few moments, the scene on the other end of the call was completely devoid of any signs of life. The connection had gone through well enough, and they could see the inside of the shop with the utmost clarity. Coffins lined the back wall in various shapes, sizes and states of construction, a work-bench was placed slightly off-center, a few cobwebs dusted over the molding for good measure, and corked beakers filled with various liquids were stacked on a table just beside the computer, a few of which blocked the lens' view.

Cian continued to stare towards the screen with an intense, stoic expression, awaiting a shift of movement to occur. He scanned over every inch of the scenery which he could make out. Nothing replied. He sighed briefly. It seemed he'd have to approach this a little more directly.

"Undertaker, come out. I have a request to make of you," he called out towards the screen.

The moment that he finished speaking, the screen began to shift in reply.

Cian swayed backwards in his seat slightly as he tried to get a better perspective on the change. A slightly worn hand with exceptionally long, pointed black fingernails began to tap against the ledge of the desk as a covered top hat with an equally long cloth tail rose up from beneath the edges of the camera's range. The upper half of his face was obscured by his hair, and the lower half by the desk and the frame of the camera, so it was impossible to see quite how he was reacting from his expression, but it was all too easy to tell he'd found who he'd meant to.

As he approached closer to the camera and towards the monitor of his computer, a Cheshire grin began to spread across his features. He raised one finger to his mouth in continued curiosity. A light spurt of a chuckle escaped him as his understanding settled in.

"And here I thought the earl had forgotten aaall about me. It's been so long. I can't even say I expected you…" the Undertaker mused.

Cian's expression remained unfalteringly serious. He folded his hands across his knee and stared towards the monitor. "You said that I was welcome any time, did you not?"

The response made his smile grow a little bit wider as the concept of the scene before him settled in. "I s'pose that I did," he agreed. He tapped his finger against his mouth in continued interest. "In any case, welcome back, milord. Should I still call you milord?"

"Call me whatever you see fit. It's not relevant to the reason I'm here. I'd prefer not to waste time discussing it."

"That's not much fun. You should stop just to chat once in a while. It could do you well, but very well… Now, what is it that the earl seeks today? You wouldn't be involved in anything relating to our previous business, so what could you possibly be searching for? " he inquired, uncertain of what to anticipate but extremely eager to know.

There was no use in trying to curtail the subject, so Cian didn't bother to. He leaned forward in his chair, maintained constant eye contact with the screen. "Information that you shouldn't be capable of or willing to provide, but I'll inquire nonetheless. How does one reach the realm of grim reapers?"

There was a pause on the other side. A moment passed in silence. Even within the context of an acquaintance that shouldn't have possibly existed suddenly contacting him out of the blue, that was not a question the Undertaker had expected he would hear. It wasn't apparent if it was the absurdity of the idea, the suddenness of the question, or the completely straightforward, almost casual delivery that had caused the reaction, but regardless of the initial cause, the result was the same. He cackled lightly, and after a few shakes of getting the first two responses out of his system, smiled.

"Now, why would you need to know something like that? It seems you're getting involved in things that shouldn't be involved in," the Undertaker taunted mildly.

Cian did his best to ignore the accusation and continued on. "My motivation is not your concern. Do you know the answer?"

The Undertaker's expression finally managed to start subduing, fading back into a much milder, pondering hint of a grin. "Why, yes, I think I may know something that could help you to hear."

"Should I presume that the payment is the same as usual?" Cian asked immediately, eager to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Yes…, but, it's been so long, and the answer so simple, that I feel a bit generous. I'll tell you this much for free. In order to reach where you seek, there's just one small thing a person needs to do. They die."


	19. Bartering

Chapter XIX: Bartering

As the Undertaker offered his uncharacteristically straightforward solution in a much more typical giddy, taunting manner, Cian's expression plummeted. He was trying to remain an unfaltering, business-like demeanor while holding this discussion, but it had become increasingly more difficult to manage after hearing a response like that.

"I was hoping for an alternative method…" Cian muttered back. He raised his fist over his hand, cleared his throat to try and recollect himself as much as possible. "While that would certainly be more direct, I need to be able to return after having gotten there," he tried to specify.

The Undertaker smiled knowingly back from the other side of the screen. It was evident from that smile that he'd known exactly what he meant all along, but he couldn't help but to have a little fun. For one brief moment of silence, Cian wondered if absolutely every supernatural creature he came into regular contact with had a natural inclination to tease him constantly. Before he could settle on an answer to this, his thoughts were interrupted.

"You aren't looking at it the right way, not at all. You've been there once before, and you've come back. What makes you so incapable of doing it again?" The Undertaker asked thoughtfully.

"Time and circumstance," Cian replied immediately, not bothering to give that idea a second thought. "Now, how would a living person travel between the dimensions of reapers and humans?"

The Undertaker tsked in disapproval. "It always needs to be so difficult, never can accept the most obvious solution, could you..."

Cian wasn't sure if he was pretending to misunderstand, or if the impracticality of dying in this situation honestly evaded him. In either case, he decided not to ask.

The Undertaker took a seat on one of the coffins nearest the computer and tapped one of his fingers beneath his chin, mulling the 'new conditions' over in such a way that seemed to imply it wasn't the puzzle of their scenario he was thinking about. "Information such as this, which so few _people_ know, is much too valuable to give away when it's worth so much more. You won't be able to find it anywhere else…"

Unknown to the Undertaker, they probably _could _get this information from another source. It was just that the price he asked for was a lot less agonizing to deal with him than tracking down the alternative.

"Shall I take it that the terms for compensation are still the same?" Cian asked.

"Yes, yes, but… this is beyond our usual scope, so, only the highest quality will work. I need to be—how does that expression go?—rolling across the floor with laughter. You'll need to outdo yourself for this one."

They'd already wasted enough time reaching an understanding, so Cian didn't bother to wait even a second before he turned in his chair to face the demon who had been patiently waiting behind him until the negotiation was finished. "Sebastian!" he called.

Sebastian turned to face him, bowing slightly as he did so. "Yes, my lord?"

As the Undertaker watched the exchange begin, he expressed his growing dissatisfaction in an increasingly overdramatic fashion. He raised his sleeve over his mouth and slouched over the desk. "Making someone else do your work for you again. Such a shame. You did such a good job when you bothered to act for yourself, but you never seem willing to try," he lamented.

Cian chose to ignore his comment and continued his exchange as if he hadn't heard. He stared calmly towards Sebastian, trying to relay the seriousness of the matter without specifically stating it. After a brief moment of eye contact between the two of them, Cian stood up from his chair waved his hand away from his face in dismissal, and began to walk out of the room. "Entertain him until he's satisfied," he ordered on his way out.

Sebastian nodded in return. He followed Cian on his way out of the room. "Of course, sir. This shall not take long. Please wait outside. I will open the door when you may enter the room once more." With that, Sebastian pulled the door shut and turned back around to attend to the task at hand. Their time was rather limited, so it was for the best that he set about accomplishing this task as efficiently as possible…

Cian's hands fell to his side as he stared at the door, waiting for a sign. Eulalie approached him. She weaved affectionately between his legs, rubbing all over him. He didn't bother to move. There wasn't much of anything he could do at the moment but wait for Sebastian to open the door again.

At least twenty seconds passed in complete silence. Eulalie mewed. He didn't look towards her. Instead, he kept staring towards the flat wood surface in expectation of what would eventually occur. Time kept on passing, and as far as he could tell, Sebastian had decided to take a nap. Nothing seemed to be happening, and there was nothing Cian could do about it.

Waiting out here, with absolutely nothing to do and no signals to observe, it was making him feel kind of restless. So, he decided to try and fix that.

Creeping across the floor as silently as possible, Cian approached the door. He pressed his ear against the crevice between the door and the doorframe, listening as closely as possible to what lie on the other side. He tried to peek through the crack, but he couldn't see much of anything. His speculation continued to escalate. Obviously, Sebastian had to be doing something in there, but what could it possibly be? The more time he spent pondering the idea, the more the conditions made him desperate to find out. Maybe it was humiliating. He knew that _he'd_ find that humorous.

As the idea began to settle, Cian pulled away from the door and looked at it again. There were no signs of it opening in the next thirty seconds or so. If it was this quiet now, then the Undertaker clearly wasn't laughing satisfactorily yet. If he hurried, there was a possibility he could find out.

There was really no reason he had to listen to what Sebastian asked him to do. Perhaps if he had wanted to be polite, that would have qualified as one, but when he considered the many ways in which Sebastian twisted any order he gave him around to such an extent that it was barely recognizable, it didn't inspire much of a reason to listen—not when he had a better idea.

Cian ran down the stairs, through the living room and down into the basement. He pulled open the closet door, stretched up to the top shelf and snatched something off of it. He hid the object in his coat and dashed back upstairs.

He slowed down when he reached the staircase so he could minimalize how much sound he made as he approached the door and tried to twist the handle. It was unlocked.

Sebastian was so engrossed in his efforts that when the door opened, he didn't look towards it. Cian decided to take this as a sign that even if he had been seen, he hadn't been fully noticed.

Cian walked silently around the perimeter of the room, approaching with the utmost caution as he tried to stay out of Sebastian's view. Shelowly and cautiously, climbed onto the bed and then onto the footboard, where he came to a stop. The boost in height allowed him to stand at about the same height as Sebastian.

Sebastian sighed briefly, his expression strained in thought. He pressed his hand over his forehead to express the frustration that built in him simply from recounting a memory he'd have preferred to forget. "Regardless of how many times I tried to insist that it was impractical to give sentience to a giant plush ladybug, he refused to listen. Eventually, this disagreement escalated to the point where he-"

Before Sebastian had the opportunity to complete his thought, his attention was lured astray by a sensation he hadn't anticipated. Something had fallen onto his head.

"Catch," Cian muttered flatly.

Unaware of what exactly the item was, Sebastian began to reach up and grab it. A slew of glitter poured down onto his shoulders like a particularly horrible case of shimmery dandruff, and a few of the flecks landed on the bridge of his nose.

Suspecting he knew what it was, Sebastian started to reach onto his head to pull it the rest of the way off. Before he had the chance, Cian pressed his hands on top of the hat and kept it down, blocking Sebastian from reaching it. "No," Cian commanded simply.

Sebastian suppressed the urge to sigh or twitch for a very different reason than he had been before. He continued to hold one hand over his head, reaching for the hat, but not attempting to remove it. He put forth an effort to smile through the disbelief, confusion, and general lack of context for what had just occurred. "Young master, if I may ask, what have you just placed on my head?" he asked.

"It's a hat," Cian stated simply.

"I concluded as much. I was wondering what type of hat this is," Sebastian tried to specify.

Cian pulled one hand away from the top of the fabric. He traced his finger through the sparkle-covered fur, to the back, and wrapped his finger around a furry, wire-molded curly tail. "It's a novelty hat, that looks like a sparkly pig," he answered as innocuously as possible, taking in the ridiculous sight. Yep, it was still satisfying. "You were so fond of the last one, I thought you might like to start collecting them."

From the description, Sebastian was inclined to think he had worn worse head adornments before, but he could only speculate when he hadn't actually seen it, and furthermore, most of those had been placed on him out of general ignorance and good intentions. This, he knew was being done specifically to bother him, which made it much harder to tolerate. Still, he did his best to maintain a polite demeanor.

Sebastian turned his head slowly over his shoulder, making sure to avoid a sudden movement when he knew that Cian was probably balancing on his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but had I not told you to wait outside while I attended to this?" he questioned.

Cian leaned forward by resting his elbow on Sebastian's head. He pressed his hand against his face and glanced down towards the front of the hat. The Googly eyes on the front of the hat rattled from one side to the other with the impact. "You did. I'm just choosing not to listen," he stated matter-of-factly.

Sebastian's smile twitched slightly as he struggled to stay patient. "If you had the intention of doing so from the start, you should have mentioned so prior to your departure," he attempted to suggest.

"It wouldn't have been nearly as effective that way," Cian argued back.

Cian let go of the hat's tail. He placed that hand on Sebastian's shoulder to continue supporting himself where he stood on the ledge of the footboard. He was standing on his tiptoes in order to reach this far, but he was fairly confident he wouldn't fall off balance from here. If he did, he'd bring Sebastian down with him, and Sebastian wouldn't dare risk a failure as simple as that.

Sebastian cleared his throat and continued to try and rationalize his perspective. "There may have been a greater reason for me to make such a request. You couldn't have been aware of it. What if I had been in the midst of doing something inappropriate?"

"…Then, it'd be Friday." That was such a ridiculous thing for Sebastian of all people to try and argue that he almost found it humorous.

Sebastian tried to look up towards Cian with minimal success at actually seeing him, due to the fact that Cian's head was resting directly above his own. "I beg your pardon, my lord?" he asked, sounding unsure of what Cian was referring to. Cian scoffed.

"I've yet to see you take an action that is genuinely appropriate to the situation at hand. Whatever you could possibly end up doing for the mere sake of comedy must pale in contrast, just for sake of reason," Cian argued back, still sounding somewhat rational, but also notably accusatory. Sebastian wasn't exactly receptive to this.

"I do not intend to argue, but I have adhered to the guidelines of our agreement. If there is anything I have done wrong-," he tried to explain, only to be cut off.

"There is. Unquestionably," Cian said flatly.

Sebastian noted that the young master really had to learn how to let other people finish speaking before he chimed in, but he knew there was no chance of that happening anytime soon, not when he was the only one with the time to try and teach the lesson. As he considered this idea, Sebastian opened his mouth to continue his argument. The moment that the first consonant started to escape his mouth, Cian interrupted him yet again, speaking over him.

"Over the course of the last two months, you have invaded my personal space at every conceivable opportunity, and a number of them I'd have thought _in_conceivable as well." Cian started to push away from Sebastian as he spoke. He'd intended to shift around until he was standing upright, but his current positioning didn't allow for much range of movement, so he settled for grabbing onto the shoulder of Sebastian's jacket to tug his attention forward. Sebastian turned his head up as much as he could to look towards Cian. Cian glowered back.

"It'd take too long to list them, so I'll summarize. You picked me up and carried me against my will, snuck around my home without being invited on numerous occasions, lied down in my bed with me, whispered my name into my ear, gazed deeply into my eyes for unnaturally long periods of time, and even if I disregarded all of that, you kissed me._ Kissed_ me?" he stumbled over the past few words from the sheer disbelief, anger and frustration they brewed in him to think about. He pulled on Sebastian's suitcoat harder, pulling him towards him. "That's not normal behavior. That's so many shades of wrong it's no longer in the visible spectrum. That's the kind of wrong someone shows on an online chat room on Dateline before Chris Hansen tells them to take a seat!" he shouted furiously.

Well, Sebastian had been anticipating there would be recoil at some point. Evidently, it had just taken a lot longer to arrive than usual. He stood his ground as Cian tried to shake him. The boy didn't have much strength, so it wasn't much more than a minor inconvenience to be pulled from side to side like this. He waited for a few moments, allowing for the worst of it to pass, and once it had, then he tried to speak up.

"My apologies for causing you such discomfort, my lord. I merely intended to console you," Sebastian tried to explain. It didn't help.

"A plush toy consoles someone. Giving them warm apple pie and wrapping them in a soft blanket, that consoles someone. Invading someone's personal space and blowing into their ear canal while they're too stunned to move is an intimidation tactic. If a misunderstanding is your reasoning, you're either completely socially inept or well on your way to becoming a statutory rapist. Would you care to explain which or should I presume it's both?" Cian's voice started to rise again by the end of the argument, stopping just short of the point of yelling outright.

To some extent, Sebastian knew he deserved this, so he had initially intended to take the derision quietly. However, there was one comment in particular among Cian's ranting that stood out. No matter how much Sebastian understood that he should hold his silence, he just couldn't resist voicing one particular comment.

"...forgive me for this interjection, my lord, but I am not certain you said what you intended to. The term 'statutory' refers to a difference in age as the illegal factor. Thus, it implies mutual consent, does it not?" Sebastian questioned.

The moment that the comment reached his ears, Cian was stunned. His face began to tint a shade of blue. He felt a few counter-arguments itch towards the back of his throat, ready to snap back at Sebastian, but as the idea sunk in, he was left speechless and choked on the air. There wasn't much he could do to contest Sebastian's statement when he was entirely right, and until then Cian had been too caught up in his anger to notice.

"Should I presume that was a mere error in phrasing, or is there something you have neglected to mention thus far?" Sebastian asked, appearing so perfectly polite that it was clear he was mocking him. He didn't laugh aloud, but the smile on his face was more than close enough to it.

Cian pushed away from Sebastian, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and chucked it at Sebastian's head. Sebastian reached his hand behind his head and caught it. He took a step forwards and turned around to face Cian, anticipating what he knew would happen next.

When he'd moved away so suddenly, Cian knocked himself off-balance. He shifted along the edge of the footboard and outstretched his arms in an attempt to regain it. He swayed forward while shifting his left foot back to try and step back onto the ledge, only to shift a little _too _far back and fall inelegantly onto his back. The bed bounced with the residual impact. He flinched.

As the initial shock of the impact wore off, and his surroundings came back into focus, Cian looked ahead of him to see Sebastian standing at attention directly behind the footboard, extending a hand towards him. Sebastian's smile glistened with the joy of an individual who was having far too much fun for what he was doing. "Would you care for some assistance, young master?" he asked.

At the sound of his voice, Cian's face grew an even deeper blue. His hair stood up on the nape of his neck, and he was filled with a deep, consuming need to never hear Sebastian use that tone of voice again. Cian grabbed onto the edge of the footboard and pulled himself upright. His eye twitched. Evidently, his answer was no. He tried to will the discoloration in his face to go away, but it didn't seem to help, so he settled for glaring and making a different accusation.

"My I forgot the prefix was entirely unnecessary. Really shameful, how I could forget, considering how well you reintroduced yourself by basically saying you could manipulate the world so nobody could hear me if I screamed for help. Tell me one instance, just one, where that's not blatantly a threat!" Cian shouted at Sebastian.

"I could do so, but it may be a waste of our time for me to attempt to justify a statement I never made," Sebastian defended, not at all phased.

"You may as well have! Apparating across the room, grabbing my arm like the real-world equivalent of a bad horror movie villain-"

Rather than allow Cian to continue ranting, as it was so clear he would have if left to himself, Sebastian decided to take a cue from Cian's view on proper social protocol and interrupted him. "There was a concealed blade within your sleeve. You may have harmed yourself accidentally if it was left unattended," he explained.

Cian's eye narrowed with irritation. "If someone was harmed, it wasn't going to be on accident, I can assure you of that much…" he grumbled, his stare shifting over towards the wall.

"You should not place me at fault for matters you infer through my actions. It is hardly fair of you to do so," Sebastian reasoned.

Cian draped his arms around the edge of the headboard and slouched into them. He continued to stare towards the wall. "I'm not sure fairness is what you should be arguing here, because fair involves you balled and gagged, tied to the top of the empire state building with the pig hat on your head, at the very least!"

Cian shifted along the edge of the headboard so he was facing forward anymore. He glimpsed towards Sebastian out of the corner of his eye. The more Cian was beginning to collect his dignity after his slip of the tongue, the more spiteful he was beginning to feel. A vein on the side of his face began to twitch. To the unobservant eye, he looked as if he'd started to collect himself at least a little bit, but on the inside, he was overflowing with a desire to see him suffer. Then, an idea came to mind. It was minor, petty, and not nearly equivalent to his personal humiliation, but he needed to start somewhere, and he was angry enough not to waste further time thinking about it than that.

"Your suit is very high quality," Cian remarked casually, speaking into the side of his hand. As he continued, his voice grew increasingly louder until it eventually grew into an angry shout. "I wonder if the fabric could withstand being bleached and dyed florescent orange. ...Sebastian Michaelis, the tangerine teacher. It has as nice ring to it, eh? I wonder if my classmates would agree...!"

Cian pushed off of the footboard and started to snap towards Sebastian, searching for the signs of a reaction he never quite got to see. From the angle he stopped at, the only part of Sebastian's head visible was the back of his hair. He could have kept turning in concept, but before he'd managed to do so, nearly-maniacal laughter he hadn't noticed until then erupted through the room. Curious, he turned to face the computer monitor, and it began to make a great deal more sense.

At some point or another through their small dispute, the Undertaker had heard something he found amusing and he'd started laughing. He was barely visible on the monitor's display, his head staying only narrowly within the bottom frame of the screen because he was lying over the top of his desk, presumably in order to avoid falling over. His grip on the surface began to falter and he nearly faded away outright, the sole remaining sign of his presence being the ear-bleedingly loud sound of his laugh continuing to pound throughout the room. It rattled the walls and furniture with the force of the residual noise. Cian pressed his hands over the top of his ears in an attempt to drown the noise out with very little effectiveness.

Having noticed the change in their surroundings as well, Sebastian walked away from the bed over to the computer and turned the volume down while they waited for the wave of laughter to pass. He waited beside the computer, observing the screen.

After spending a few more seconds than one would have thought necessary, shaking on his desk, the Undertaker began to shift upright once more. Sebastian turned the volume on the speakers just enough that they could hear a comment that followed without splitting any eardrums in the next few blocks if he started to laugh again.

The Undertaker stifled a few tricking guffaws into his sleeve and swayed backwards, overjoyed and completely satisfied. "I'll answer everything, yes, yes, anything you want to know," he spoke, for the most part muttering to himself. Due to the low volume the speakers were set to, he was only marginally comprehensible, but at this point, he didn't need to be.

Cian shot a glimpse over towards Sebastian, still irate. He swung his legs around to the side of the bed and prepared to climb off. Sebastian took the few steps necessary to cross the room and reach where Cian was sitting. He stood directly in front of him and extended his hand, silently offering his assistance with the usual smile. Cian shifted across the bed to a position where Sebastian wasn't directly blocking his way and stood up on his own.

As much fun as watching bitterness and frustration could be sometimes, there were instances where it was less appropriate than others, and this was one of them. Sebastian knew he had to apologize. Whether or not he had to mean it was another matter entirely. Sebastian approached yet again, moving over to where Cian stood against a wall. He leaned very slightly over Cian's shoulder, maneuvering just enough to be heard if he spoke at a low volume without specifically whispering into his ear.

"Young master, I sincerely did not intend to cause you that level of discomfort," Sebastian told Cian quietly.

Cian's eye shifted back in Sebastian's direction, just as slanted with frustration as they had been before. He pressed his hand against the side of his face and leaned against a nearby bookcase. "But you'd be pleasantly surprised with the result if you had, wouldn't you?" he muttered back, making no effort whatsoever to disguise his skepticism.

There weren't many ways to refute that when Cian was absolutely right. Even when he hadn't intended it, Sebastian was still rather amused by the whole mess, but it was counter-productive to allow it to continue. He considered how best to handle this situation without causing the damage to grow worse, but before he could reach a conclusion, Cian had turned towards him to stare him down with substantially less anger than he'd been displaying a few seconds ago.

"Don't bother with an excuse. We have greater concerns than your lack of proper conduct. That aside, I didn't mean most of what I said, either," he dismissed with a flick of his wrist as casually as possible.

With that matter as close to resolved as it was going to be, Cian walked away from his bookcase and slipped back into his chair in front of the computer desk. He crossed one leg over the other, leaned towards the monitor and set his hand on the dial for the speakers in preparation for the conversation he meant to be concerned with.

Understanding that this was the closest expression to honesty he could hope to hear in the near future, Sebastian turned away. He bent over the side of the bed and pulled the sheets taut, fixing the wrinkles and various other forms of damage Cian's little escapade had caused. He glimpsed up briefly to see what condition the young master was in when he didn't think he was being observed. He seemed to be alright, so Sebastian continued to busy himself for the time being by tidying up the room, leaving Cian to deal with the matter at hand.

Cian twisted the dial, turning the volume on the speakers up back to a conversational volume just in time to hear the voice on the other side chuckle a bit more.

"Ah, that really was, heh, quite unexpected. What a wonderful double act… you play off of him quite well," the Undertaker observed, still in a state of admiring what he'd seen.

Cian coughed into his elbow and looked away dismissively, trying to think up a way to avoid the subject as casually as possible.

"It's, not,… My time is limited. I'd prefer if we not discuss that any further and address what I need to discuss with you," he tried to clarify, clearly uncomfortable with the whole subject. Sebastian couldn't help but to peek in his direction when he heard that choppy disconnection in his speech. So, he _was_ still unsettled… and Sebastian couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him just a little bit more.

"You need not be so modest, boke-chan. Dismissing a compliment so swiftly may be taken as impolite," Sebastian criticized in as friendly of a tone as was possible.

Cian jolted in his chair as a chill ran through him. He didn't know quite what Sebastian meant, but the tone of it alone was enough to alert him that he didn't approve of it. He snapped his head towards Sebastian and shot him another agitated expression, though this time, his eyes were widened with shock. "Shut up, Sebastian! The adults are talking."

Sebastian sighed. "Very well. I shall go find the young mistress. Perhaps she will appreciate my attention," he said. He walked out into the hallway and began to search for where Eulalie had wandered off to.

Cian cleared his throat into his hand and adjusted in his seat. He looked back up towards the screen, ready to attempt this conversation again, or at least as close to ready as he could expect to be.

"As I was saying, I need a path into the realm of grim reapers—one that doesn't require me to die to get there. I'm… searching for something I require for personal reasons," he tried to explain while taking care not to slip up in his wording and reveal something he couldn't afford to mention.

Seeing as he had two eyes beneath all of his hair and a functioning set of ears, the Undertaker noticed the abrupt, seemingly randomized pauses in Cian's speech pattern. It wasn't much of a leap of logic for him to then pick up on why it was there.

"There's little point in feigning innocence with me after this long, milord. You're a valued customer I'd prefer not to lose. Whatever you're after, I won't tell," the Undertaker said. He didn't directly say it was a promise, but it was closely enough implied that it appeared he wouldn't immediately jump to telling anyone else. It wasn't as if he had many other customers of this nature, and even if he did, they weren't the sort who would benefit from the information he was about to hold when it would also incriminate him to tell it.

Cian inhaled deeply, closing his eye while he determined how best to phrase something like folded his hands on his knees and looked straight into the lens of the camera. "I need a reaper's scythe. And, I need to take it in a way that _won't_ be traced immediately back to me, so I'd prefer to take one from where they're kept en masse rather than from an individual."

"That's… difficult. The scythes of reapers aren't made to be wielded by humans-."

Rather than let the Undertaker try to reason with him about why this was a horrible idea, Cian cut him off. "Difficult but not impossible. I can handle it once I possess it; I just need to reach the right place, and everything else you can leave to me. So where are they kept and how do I get there?" he asked, skipping ahead to the point as quickly as possible.

Well, there was no point in stalling any further. The Undertaker moved up away from the desk. He began to walk away from the computer, moving over towards the coffins on the side of the room while he thought the idea over.

"Where they're held, I can't say. It tends to change often, but one aspect's always constant. It's always reached through the trail one's the least likely to look for and even less likely to travel." He looked from one side of the room to the other, overlooking his surroundings for something. He turned up and reached for the top shelf for a moment, about to take something off, but he retracted his hand away before he grabbed it. "And as for how to get there, the method's still the same. The only way to reach the realm of grim reapers is through death. If you can't go with it, then you need to follow it. It's as simple as that."

Cian listened to every word and he didn't fully understand all of it. "You could benefit from being a bit less ambiguous. The riddles aren't that helpful," he commented. For some reason, nobody around him seemed capable of giving normal directions anymore.

The Undertaker turned back towards the computer, causing his clothing to sway around him as he twirled. He lifted his finger back up beside his cheek, poking the nail lightly against the surface. "What do you mean? Maybe the first one's a bit tricky, but the last… the last one's not a riddle at all."

For the first few seconds, Cian didn't believe he was hearing the truth. Then, he thought about it a little bit more. His eye widened in a flash of understanding, and suddenly, he knew exactly what the Undertaker was getting at.

He leaned forward in his seat, pressing his elbows against the desk as he hunched towards the monitor and stared into the camera hanging above the screen. "How do reapers travel between the worlds?" he asked urgently, shifting the camera with his hand so it was looking straight down at him.

"Close, much closer, but it's not so much a world. It's more of a… dimension that their scythe can cut a path into."

"So wherever they appear, a path in appears as well," Cian concluded, reciting what he thought was the implication aloud so he could verify that he was getting the right idea.

The Undertaker nodded. "That's it."

Cian nodded back in return, more confirming his understanding with himself than trying to show it to someone else. He took his hand away from the camera and lifted it back up to its proper position atop of the monitor. He corrected his posture to sit as upright as he was willing to and lowered his head slightly as a brief show of gratitude. "Thank you very much for your time."

"You're welcome, milord. Should anything else arise, you're free to visit me any time, no matter what the era is," the Undertaker said back.

Cian reached forward for the mouse. He pulled it across the screen and prepared to close the browser. The arrow hovered immediately over the 'x' button. He was about to click it down when he was interrupted by a sudden noise. "But, before you go," the Undertaker interrupted.

Cian's finger froze on the left button, grazing the surface but not pressing it down. He settled his hand there and looked up to hear him out, if just for a moment.

"Do be cautious. If you don't watch your step, your ambition might pull you right back under, and if it doesn't, then your overconfidence might. I'd hate to see that happen," the Undertaker suggested gravely. His words' seriousness seemed to reach through the screen, practically pulling at Cian's collar with the effect of them to make him look ahead.

Cian stared unflinchingly back into the camera as a sense of defiance sparked within him, and there was only one thing left he could say. "You're wrong. I'm not confident, and this has nothing to do with ambition, either. I'm just desperate enough to try," he stated.

"Is that so?" The Undertaker looked back towards him, curious. "Then what, exactly, are you desperate for?"

As the weight of the question sank in, Cian was forced to understand that even if it wasn't the Undertaker's business to know, it was a valid inquiry. He didn't expect that he could seek revenge from people who were dead, so his prior ultimate goals were gone. He had very little of worth or purpose and others were being hurt because of him, so in a way, going this far to save himself was selfish. On the other hand, how many fourteen-year-olds had ever found their purpose? If the goals he used to hold no longer applied, then, he deserved the chance to find a new one just like anyone else.

"To live," he answered.

Cian double-clicked on the mouse, shutting the connection down. He brought up a list of processes running on the computer and closed out of them as well, including the proxy server. He glimpsed down to the clock attached to the taskbar. It was now five forty four in the afternoon. That meant there were roughly 30 hours left. It wasn't much to work with, but it was still plausible, as long as he didn't squander what he had.

He turned off the computer, unplugged both pieces from the outlet near his bed, picked up the monitor and carried it back into the study. He rushed back into his bedroom and did the same with the tower, placing both of the pieces back in the place where he'd found them. Once they were back where they were intended to be, he crawled beneath the desk, plugged them into the nearest outlet, pulled back out and stormed out of the room in as much of a rush as possible, slamming the door behind him. He passed through the hallway and ran down the stairwell, skipping every other step in his haste. He grabbed the railing to bring himself to a sudden stop one stair before he reached the bottom and turned his head over his shoulder. "Sebastian, come!" he shouted impatiently up the staircase.

"Yes, my lord?" At the sound of the command, Sebastian pulled away from the bathroom cabinet, stroked Eulalie's forehead one last time in parting and stepped into the hallway. He looked down the corridor towards the source of the sound, but by the time he'd arrived to look, Cian had already moved out of sight.

Sebastian strode down the hallway and followed him through the living room as well as the kitchen, until he finally caught up with him beside the front door. Cian had stopped beside the table next to the door to rummage through a dish, searching for something or another. Sebastian stood by in silent observation as Cian pulled out a single key and shoved roughly it inside his pocket.

Cian flipped his head over his shoulder and looked impatiently towards Sebastian yet again, though this time there was actually eye contact involved. "Hurry up, we don't have the time for you to waste dawdling," he demanded while turning away.

Cian reached towards the locks on the front door to unhinge the latch, then the deadbolt and finally the doorknob itself. He jostled it a few times in impatience while he struggled to make it work. Sebastian reached over Cian's shoulder and grabbed onto the handle as well, which caused the door to slide open instantly.

A momentary twitch coursed through Cian as he briefly considered which part he found more annoying; that Sebastian made it appear so completely effortless, or that he'd so casually grabbed onto his hand in order to do it and was continuing to do so after the door was already partway open. Sebastian's fingers laced between the crevices of his own, pressing Cian's hand down with Sebastian's palm. Cian couldn't move away like this, not without stepping on Sebastian and in the process, and as tempting as that might be, it still wouldn't do him much good while his hand was stuck.

Sebastian leaned just the slightest bit further over Cian's shoulder. If he hadn't intended to come across as potentially threatening, then he had quite the natural talent for it. "Before we depart, would you care to inform me of where it is you intend to go to?" he asked casually, as if he wasn't keeping Cian from escaping while he spoke.

"Let go of my hand _right now_," Cian demanded angrily, not at all in the mood to deal with this.

Sebastian began to slide his hand a little further up, his fingers wrapping around Cian's wrist to continue keeping him at least partially in place.

Cian's eyebrow twitched with a complete lack of appreciation. "What are you doing?" he asked flatly.

"I am no longer restraining your hand, my lord," Sebastian answered unabashedly.

Cian's expression lowered. "I meant _me_. Let go of _me_," he corrected himself, still not amused.

"As you say," Sebastian did as he was instructed, taking a step away so he was no longer in any physical contact with Cian whatsoever. He lowered his hands to his side and returned to proper posture. "But please note that my question continues to stand as first asked. I may be of much greater assistance if I am aware of where it is you intend to go," he repeated, waiting for an answer. He wasn't waiting for long.

Cian turned around beside the doorframe, holding the side of it for a moment of support as he twisted around to face Sebastian. "To the hospital," he stated simply.

"Why there, of all places?" Sebastian asked back. He thought he may have known the reason, but it was far less ambiguous if he heard it stated directly.

Cian didn't bother to do much as blink back. "Because, it's a hospital," he answered plainly, feeling absolutely no need to elaborate.

With that as established as he planned for it to be, Cian turned his back to Sebastian and began to take a step forward to leave through the open doorway. He was about a fourth of the way through moving when a sudden, unexpectedly forceful burst of air made him pause mid-step. By the time he could get a clear view of what lie ahead of him, the door was closed. It was of very little extra surprise when he noticed Sebastian standing in the middle of his intended path.

Cian glowered at him disapprovingly. "I answered your question, and that's far more than I'm obligated to do. Now, let me pass," he demanded.

Sebastian didn't budge. He kept both of his arms lying at his side and stood perfectly upright, blocking Cian's only plausible exit in a manner just firm enough to make it appear like he had some shred of actual authority in this situation.

Cian stared back at him with growing impatience. He huffed into his hand, started to look away and turned back only to see that Sebastian still hadn't moved. "Go, already," Cian ordered, flinging his arm to the side for added effect, as if showing Sebastian a direction to move in would be of some help. It wasn't.

"This is for your own well-being. It is best we not act too impulsively, for the sake of your safety. That is my priority," Sebastian advised while also attempting to explain his behavior. Even if he was being ordered to move, it went against his better judgment, and more importantly, a previous order. He was supposed to ensure the young master's survival in any instance, regardless of the circumstances or his more immediate concerns. That wasn't a condition Sebastian was going to treat lightly ever again.

Cian chose not to comment on the subject yet. He didn't know quite what to say when he was being watched with an expression like that. He slowly pulled his outstretched hand back in towards his chest and averted his gaze as subtly as possible so he didn't need to look at Sebastian.

Sebastian's expression calmed with a sigh. "I swear to you, I would not be obstructing your way if it were not explicitly necessary to do so. Thirty hours is a considerable amount of time, and you are still injured. You should spare a few moments to rest and reassess whilst I tend to your wounds, at the very least. It may seem wasteful now, but you may find that exhibiting patience over recklessness is well worth your while," he explained, being as reasonable about this as possible.

Cian's eye shifted towards the wall. He raised his hand over his face, massaged the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed. "Yeah, and I may find a chupacabra in my backyard, too. Doesn't mean it's that likely," he grumbled into his hand.

"...I can assure you, sir, that would be impossible," Sebastian commented back, mildly more perplexed by the choice in analogy than he appeared.

The moment that he spoke up, Cian snapped his head up. He stared through the crevices of his fingers towards Sebastian, making a moment of eye contact with a narrowed stare. "I wouldn't make that assumption," he stated accusingly.

Cian pulled his hand away from his head with a swift flick of his wrist and dropped it to his side. He took a step back towards the wall, placed his hand away from his face, into his pocket and stared into the reflection on the mirror beside the door, viewing them both from the opposite direction. "After being around you, I don't believe in impossible anymore—wildly improbable and defiant of all logic, yes, but not impossible. Nothing else I can ever encounter can be quite as absurd as you," he muttered bitterly.

As Cian spoke, Sebastian's eyes drifted over towards the mirror, examining what it was that had caught his attention. When it became apparent that it was more the absence of anything notable that was drawing his stare, Sebastian turned back towards Cian to observe him directly. No matter how condemning the boy was trying to make his behavior, it couldn't keep a hint of a smile from returning to Sebastian's face.

"With another inflection, that could easily be interpreted as a compliment, and I am flattered accordingly, but it is nothing of significance. A butler worthy of serving the home of Phantomhive should be capable of no less." Sebastian began to bow as a sign of humility, and more importantly, in what was an obvious attempt to detract from any potential tension by returning to a default. It was a good idea and an admirable attempt, but Cian just turned further away and ignored it.

"I was more amazed that you can function when you're mostly composed of crap, but your interpretation's nice too. Good variation in grammatical structure. And if I'd meant it as a compliment, then I would have phrased it _as a compliment_."

Sebastian just kept smiling. "I would choose to differ."

Cian scoffed in annoyance with the idea, causing his head to flop a little in the process of it. He shifted a little further away from Sebastian, reluctant to make any sort of contact with him or his reflection whatsoever right now. That scoff started to fade into the traces of an almost-silent sigh while the pressure of his real problem sank in once more. "You should've kept being unreasonable. It's easier to be mad at you," he complained, reluctantly and inadvertently conceding, at least for that moment, that he was redirecting his frustration somewhere it didn't belong.

Not entirely sure what he was going to face and even less eager to find out, but understanding that he needed to, Cian turned around to face Sebastian directly. He was momentarily stunned when he saw that Sebastian was still bowing to him with his own temporary concession, resting on one knee with his hand placed over his heart. For a lapsing second, Cian just stood there staring at him, trying to remember what he was supposed to do in his circumstance. He settled for roughly outstretching a hand in Sebastian's direction and shifting his eye away so he didn't have to look at him when he spoke.

"Stop that. Get up," Cian ordered impatiently.

"Yes, of course, my lord." Sebastian accepted the hand offered to him as a gesture of good faith. He stood up without actually using any of the help, since he couldn't expect Cian to really pull him up, but it was a thoughtful idea, at the very least. Once he was back on his feet, he stared down towards Cian, who continued to avoid eye contact with him yet again. "Thank you for your assistance. I greatly appreciate it."

Cian shifted his attention back for a fraction of a second, caught sight of Sebastian's knowing smile, and immediately shifted back away as conspicuously as possible. "…what type of plan did you have in mind?" he asked, changing the subject. Considering the circumstances and their priorities, Sebastian was willing to go along with this.

"We spare a few hours to pack for the occasion, eat and rest. We leave at midnight, so our presence may disturb as few people as possible. As unannounced guests, it is only proper we prepare for our own accommodations, or we shall cause trouble for our hosts. It would be shameful for us to be so discourteous," Sebastian explained. While he wasn't being entirely straightforward, it was more than close enough to get his point across.

As Sebastian began to explain his plan, Cian's attention was called forward for the last time it needed to be. A glint grew in Sebastian's eyes as it became more apparent that this time, Cian's focus wasn't immediately flitting away to the other side of the room. The two of them exchanged a series of glances as Cian scrutinized whether or not to trust him with this decision. After a little more than a minute, Cian turned away and started to walk through the family room and up the stairs. Faithfully, Sebastian followed after him.

As he hurried up the stairwell, Sebastian's thoughts began to drift to places where he knew they didn't belong, particularly not now, when there was a much more important matter he needed to focus on. There was a threat on his young master's life, so, of course, eliminating it had to be his priority. Nonetheless, he couldn't stop himself from returning to earlier that morning as well as the night before. In their own convoluted way, they'd managed to address the incident, and yet he was even more uncertain of where they stood than before.

Cian paused towards the top of the staircase. He held onto the railing and turned his head over his shoulder to glance back at Sebastian. "So what do you propose we prepare?" he asked, being just as abrupt as ever.

Temporarily casting the idea out of mind, Sebastian looked back towards Cian with a thoughtful, calculating smile. There were a great deal many things that could be potentially useful for them later if they had the time, but among these, only one of them was vital, so that was the one he chose to present. "A valid excuse," he stated simply.

Satisfied with the answer, or at least as close to it as he was going to be, Cian turned back around and continued the rest of the way up the staircase towards his bedroom. As he resumed walking, Sebastian did as well, always staying just one step behind.

As they walked along towards the upstairs bedroom, the primary thought lurking in the back of Sebastian's mind was that the young master was easily the most confusing person he had ever met—and he wouldn't have been satisfied with anything less.


	20. Reconaissance

Chapter XX: Reconnaissance

It was the type of November night that no resident of Victoria could be surprised by. The sky was covered in darkness, a cluster of wispy rain clouds obscuring all but the smallest specks of stars. The mist of a light drizzle lingered in the air, weighing down just enough to make his jacket damp without it soaking through. A lone individual stood outside, just beneath the metal awning outside the main entrance to Victoria General Hospital. The doors on this side of the building were closed to everybody but members of the hospital staff, which was precisely why he was out here. Sure, it was dark and dreary outside, but at least it was quiet here. Well, it was _mostly_ quiet, and given the circumstances, that was the best he was going to find.

The generally unassuming-looking surgical intern leaned roughly back against the wall, crossed one leg over the other, reached into the side pocket of his pants and pulled out a lighter that he probably wasn't supposed to be carrying around with him on a regular basis, but he did anyway. He took out a cigarette, held it between his lips and flicked the flint wheel with his thumb to light the cigarette. He quickly put the lighter out and slipped it back into his pocket before taking a long drag from it. He blinked as a stray raindrop fell onto his eyelid and kept his eye shut as it slid away.

"Two 48 hour shifts with six hours between them… sometimes it's like they're aiming to make us screw up. Not gonna be satisfied until someone's calling the coroner or I'm gettin' an ulcer, are they," he complained to nothing in particular, glancing up towards the night sky with passive interest. He pulled his cigarette away from his lips and exhaled heavily, causing a puff of smoke to rise past the haze into a cloud of its own. He turned his head towards the side of the building and glanced down the row of windows to nowhere in particular, considering that might not be a horrible idea when a sudden chill ran through his body. Something thudded.

Unsure of what might have caused that, he started to lean a little further away and glanced around the bars upholding the awning. A light rapping noise, scraping against the pavement, started to drift in his direction. His eyebrows furrowed. He squinted as he tried to look in the direction it was coming from. The shrubs and trees rattled with an intensity that didn't quite match the passing breeze, almost as if they were reacting preemptively to what was going to follow. Aside from that, nothing appeared to be there.

Growing more and more curious, or at least more confused, he started to stand away from the wall. He had moved about an inch away only to be pushed back by a sudden, overwhelmingly forceful gust of wind that slammed him against it. The metal awning shook wildly, clanking so fiercely that it sounded like a 40 story waterfall ended upon it.

His eyes widened upon impact. His cigarette drooped in his mouth, still smoking with the residual remnants of burning ashes that was no longer a full concern; the wind had put it out.

For the following few seconds, he stood there perfectly still with his breath caught in his throat and his wariness raised. His eyes shifted from one side to the other, overlooking his surroundings with as much cautiousness as he could manage. He wanted to remain calm, and he looked as much, but that didn't change the fact that the hair on the back of his neck was standing upright. In spite of what he saw, which was still completely ordinary, something about his surroundings didn't feel quite right.

He turned towards the window with a jolt, half-anticipating that he was going to catch sight of some glowing-eyed monster or a man in a Scream mask lurking behind him, who might or might not announce that as the best worst practical joke ever. To his relief, the only reflection he spotted was his own.

"Fuck …how did that?" he sputtered, much more confused than he was going to be able to fix.

He shook his head towards the ground in shame and reached towards his pocket to grab his lighter. He flicked the wheel with his thumb as subtly as possible and prepared to pull away, only to stop just short of moving. He'd been watching down the whole time, but he didn't spot a flame. He flicked at the wheel a few more times, trying to find at least a spark off of the flint wheel. It didn't budge. He sighed heavily, dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe to put the cinders out. He then turned around and pressed the intercom button to wait for security clearance.

It took at least a minute of standing there, staring expectantly at the door before someone responded to let him in. He heard a buzzing from the opposite side of the door and reached for the handle after it had. He opened the door and entered into a middle hallway only to face another set of locked doors. He reached to his waistband, pulled the cord to pull his entrance pass out, and swiped the black bar through the card scanner. The doors slid open immediately. He stepped through them as well and entered the main lobby.

The entire front entrance of the hospital was deserted. The lights were out, the reception desk was empty, and not a single seat of the dozens that lined the walls was filled. Somewhere in the area, a security person was watching through their cameras in some safe little box, so he understood that he wasn't entirely alone here, but it sure as hell didn't look it. This was the kind of environment where, if someone were to drop a penny to the floor, it'd sound like a car crashed through the wall.

Very much not wanting to be the cause of any incidents, the intern took care to watch his footsteps as carefully as possible and crept slowly across the room. He followed along with the arrows on the wall, taking the quickest path back towards the ER.

As he headed down the hallways, his footsteps echoing off the walls, it was pretty readily apparent that he was the only person awake and in sight in the main wing. He stopped beside a wall and reached into the pocket of his jacket. A little bit of rummaging later, he pulled out his pager and checked the label on the front, just to be sure. He sighed silently with relief that he hadn't missed any alerts due to being out of range or anything else particularly unfortunate like that. If he wanted to take a break, he could.

He turned his head to the side and glanced down another hallway. He raised his foot above the ground and prepared to take a step forward, but before he had the chance to lower it back down, he heard a footstep tap against the floor. It was a light sound, but it echoed through the hallway, growing fainter each time until it eventually faded out altogether.

He stopped breathing in order to listen closer and scanned the room with his eyes in search of the source. Nothing was there—at least, nothing he could see. His eyes narrowed with a moment of suspicion before he decided to shrug it off. There were a lot of things that could have made a sound. Maybe one of the patients in this wing of the hospital had decided to get up to go to the bathroom. It wasn't as if there was nobody in the hospital at _all_, so there was no reason to be so concerned about it.

With that bit of reassurance in mind, he turned back ahead and continued in the general direction of the ER, where he should have been to start with. He continued to walk slowly, completing every step in a clean motion, so he wouldn't cause a disturbance to anyone else. He elongated his stride just a little bit further with each step, trying to make it as far away as he could without bothering someone. He made it about four steps down the hallway before he heard another sound. It wouldn't have been that concerning, but it wasn't a sound that he had made, and his pulse stopped when he heard it.

"Help?"

The word was so faint that it barely qualified as a whisper, more like an echo that never had a source. The noise quivered in the air, as if the sound itself was concerned whether or not someone else would hear it. He turned to look down the hallway once again and searched across the area for any sign of a person nearby. Through the complete absence of light aside from what could creep through the window at the end of the hall, he could barely make out the frame of the doors on the other side.

"Hello?" he asked, raising his voice the slightest bit higher than a whisper, so he could be clearly heard without disturbing anyone else in the area. The last thing he would have wanted to do was wake up a patient over something that happened in his imagination if he was wrong. To his relief, he wasn't.

"Please, you need to come towards me. I can't, move," the voice responded. When he listened a little closer, their plea sounded notably less like a whisper and more like a strained hush. Whoever it had come from, they weren't trying to be quiet—they weren't currently capable of speaking any louder than they already were.

The intern cupped a hand around his mouth and spoke up. "Just a moment, I'll be right there!" he called back.

Moving about as silently as he could manage, the intern took a few steps ahead of him when he began to question whether or not that was actually the right way to go. Slowly, he turned his head from one side to the other and searched through the darkness for any sign of where he needed to be. He couldn't see through it. His pulse echoed through his ears as a chill ran through his back. All of the sudden, the temperature had started to plummet, and he would've sworn that he could see his breath float off ahead of him were it not for the fact he couldn't see the front of his own hand if he'd held it an inch away from his face.

He tried to calm himself by breathing, but when he opened up his mouth, his breath started to freeze halfway up his windpipe. He rocked forward and tried to shake the idea out of him. "Can you tell me where you are?" he asked into the darkness, speaking up a little louder just in case he'd moved in the wrong direction.

He heard the faint reply from behind him, in the opposite direction from where he'd just walked. "Hello?" they replied softly.

The intern turned around, noted exactly where he'd heard it from, and with the minimal amount of regard for the noise he was generating to avoid getting in trouble for it, he followed the source into a side entrance shortly outside the docking bay. For a brief moment, he was puzzled by how anyone could have ended up back there at this hour of the night, while the doors were locked and nobody would possibly be making a delivery. That idea was immediately cast out of mind by something he found much more surprising.

The streetlamps outside of the plexiglass doors cast just enough light through them to cast a silhouette of a person. They were collapsed against the surface of the door, propping themselves up against the push bar that would have let them back outside if it weren't completely locked. They were swaying forward, which made it difficult to determine most of the details, but for that initial flicker of a second, the staggering hunch had seemed an awful lot like the beginning of a threat.

As his senses started to return to him and his capacity to breathe was regained, he blinked to the realization he couldn't have been further off if he'd been trying to be. The person in front of him wasn't potentially harmful. That was a child, and he was standing around being a paranoid idiot when they were starting to double over themselves and struggling to breathe. Without a further moment of scrutiny, the intern ran over to the child's side. He grabbed onto the sides of their arms in an attempt to give them some support.

"I know this might be a lot to ask, but if you still can, tell me what's wrong. I'm here now, and I'm going to help you," he spoke down towards them as reassuringly as he could manage, both towards them and himself. He knew this really wasn't the time to be overwhelmed with a regained sense of ease when there was a child in trouble, but he couldn't help experiencing at least a slight amount of relief. For a moment there, he'd been positive he was walking into something crazy.

He stared down towards the child, waiting for a response of some sort. They were still having trouble breathing. The intern tried to listen to the sound closer still, leaning in further towards the kid in order to do so and reached down for his stethoscope so he could confirm what he suspected before he took action.

The child started to lift their head up, just a little bit. The intern could barely see the bottom of their face through it, but the fact that they were moving alone was a good sign as far as he was concerned. He tried to adjust where he was standing so he could place the stethoscope against bare skin near the chest so he could hear more accurately. He set his hand in place, prepared to make his confirmation, but before he could get a clear reading, he was interrupted by a hand pulling onto his own.

Mildly surprised but not at all shocked by this point, the intern looked down towards the child. "I promise, I'm going to help you, but I can't treat you until I know for sure what's wrong," he tried to explain. He was prepared to elaborate a little further, but before he could, he was cut off mid-point.

"Are you a doctor?" they asked, short of breath.

The intern bent at his knees and tried to lower himself so he could be close to eye level with the kid. "Yes. Can you tell me what's wrong? Do you have asthma, or is this an allergic reaction? Do you know?" he asked.

As he reached the end of his question, the child's eyes shifted up through their overgrown bangs, looking at him. Their stare locked onto his with an intensity he also hadn't anticipated; not because he hadn't expected them to feel some emotions, but because that stare seemed so frigidly collected in spite of the panic they'd been showing just seconds ago.

"I do," they answered in a dissonant calm, so completely composed and businesslike that their tone of voice lacked much of any affect at all. "But, that's not the problem."

Gradually enough not to cause any sudden jolts in return, the child shook their head from one side to the other and stared up towards the intern, shifting their dampened hair out of their face to reveal what hid beneath it. The upper right half of their face was mangled with scars, including the surrounding eye, and it was dripping with blood. It formed a small puddle on the floor which pooled around their feet. The intern had been paying so much attention to the sound of the child's breathing that he'd completely overlooked the sound of it hitting the floor, but as the sight of the wound came into focus, all of the sudden, it was the only noise that he had the capacity to hear.

It was just for a fraction of a second, but as the intern stared thoughtlessly towards the wound, attempting to calculate how to treat a trauma of that nature, Cian reached away from the door and grabbed onto both of the interns' arms to pull him towards the exit. He only had to shift him a little bit, enough that his attention was grabbed even further and he started to react with a blink. It wasn't much of a response, and it certainly wasn't something that the guy was going to think twice about so suddenly, but given the environment he'd already lured the resource into, that moment of stunned confusion was all he needed.

A shadow in the form of a person emerged from the opposite side of the hallway, looming over the body of the intern. With a movement so swift that it could have been missed on film, the dark figure surrounded him, wrapping around each limb to possibly restrain him without actually grazing him in the process.

As the intern's responsiveness began to return, they started to sway forward, but paused mid-movement when he started to feel something wasn't right. Confused yet again, he blinked, and then quickly began to turn his head to see what else might be there.

Sebastian pulled both of the man's arms behind his back with one hand. He used the other to reach over his shoulder and knock his head to the side as abruptly as possible. It was quick, it was quiet, and most importantly of all, it wouldn't leave any evidence.

Sebastian released his hold over the man's now-limp arms, reached his hand onto one side of the man's pants' waist band and removed his pager from it. He flipped the device over in his hands and glimpsed at the front of it. It was blank, so Sebastian slipped it into the pocket of his white lab jacket and started to overlook the body for any card keys or identification passes that he could use. A few seconds of scanning and he managed to spot a lanyard hanging around the intern's collar, which he promptly removed as well.

While Sebastian was busy dealing with that predicament, Cian reached into the pocket of the old gray parka he'd borrowed from his mother's things and took out a large rag. He wiped his face into it, rapidly rubbing off as much of the slightly thickened red corn syrup mixture as possible. Once it was as saturated as he could make it short of pouring fake blood on the rag directly, he wrapped it in a tissue and stuffed it into his pocket. He'd throw it out later, when there wasn't a potential crime scene in the making to leave traces of himself at. He turned to glimpse back in Sebastian's direction just in time to see him carrying the body into an open supply closet.

Cian stared towards him in a moment of dry disapproval before following along with him to hide and regroup. Sebastian shut the door behind them and continued over towards the shelving while Cian checked the lock. It seemed to be set, or at least as close to it as he could make it without having a key. "Why is it that, regardless of where we may be, you continue to end up in closets?" Cian remarked in a whisper, primarily speaking towards the door.

"It is your influence that continues to force me into such," Sebastian answered immediately, with a tone so casual about it that, if Cian hadn't been listening closely for it, he could have easily missed the implications.

His expression contorted in response to what he heard as an accusation. "I didn't tell you to go into this one," he remarked, clearly sour.

"This was a matter of opportunity and practicality, not preference, sir," Sebastian replied as patiently as possible. "Two is hardly what one would consider a pattern."

"That depends on your criteria. It's still far more frequent than most people end up in them," Cian concluded with an impatient sigh. There really was no way for them to hold a discussion about closets that didn't lead to a secondary interpretation. Cian shoved the idea as far out of mind as possible and twisted the handle on the door. It didn't budge.

Once the door was locked, Cian glimpsed back over his shoulder to ensure that Sebastian was following instructions. He didn't appear to be doing anything particularly wrong at the moment, so Cian walked over towards one of the racks. Sebastian took note of this as well.

"You shall want to look to the right, the second shelf from the bottom," Sebastian suggested.

Rather than bother to question exactly why he thought he was being helpful, Cian followed his idea and grabbed one of the patient gowns. He took off his coat for a moment, dropped it to his feet, pulled the paper gown over the rest of his clothing as best he could and turned around to see where Sebastian was standing.

Sebastian set the body down across the floor. He placed his head onto a spare pillow and covered his torso with a sheet. When Cian looked towards him, Sebastian finished adjusting the sheet and left his prior task behind to attend to the more immediate one. As Sebastian started to approach from behind him, Cian stopped looking over his shoulder and adjusted his stance to face forward. This made it slightly easier for Sebastian to grab the two strings around the collar of the patient gown and tie them together into a neat, uniform bow. He pulled the edges until it was taut without being overly restricting.

Once he had finished tying it, Sebastian considered backing away, but lingered thoughtfully for a moment. "Is that to your satisfaction?" he asked in a sustained whisper, just loud enough to reach him without traveling outside the supply closet's doors.

When he heard Sebastian speak, Cian started to shift his eye to get a better look, but stopped partway through the motion and focused on the door instead. "If it wasn't, I would have said something," he commented quietly. He picked his jacket up off of the floor and pulled it back over himself. Wearing a coat inside of a hospital was sure to look unusual, he couldn't deny, but at least it was close enough to winter that he could explain it away if he needed to, and he'd appreciate the pockets later.

Cian overlooked the door for one more moment, to see whether or not they really were far enough away from the active areas of the hospital that they could avoid being caught. Concluding that he couldn't be conclusive from this far away, Cian took a few creeping steps over towards the doorway and placed his eye up to the crack so he could peer out into the hall. The only thing he could see was complete darkness. There were no guarantees, of course, but they temporarily appeared to be alright. He turned back around. Sebastian was standing in the same place as before, watching over him attentively, just as any halfway decent guard should.

When Cian started to look back, Sebastian's gaze shifted upwards, initiating a moment of eye contact that really shouldn't have been as accusatory as it felt. Sebastian looked expectant of something, but for the life of him, Cian couldn't determine what. Not about to let Sebastian be the only one making silent commands, Cian held his hand out in front of him, flattening his palm. He stared back, his expression flattened and impatient.

"Hand over the pager," Cian demanded.

Sebastian reached into the pocket of his lab coat and passed the pager over. Cian snatched it out of Sebastian's hands and pulled it close to his face to check the display. Nothing appeared to have changed on the device; at least not that he was capable of detecting by looking at the screen. He exhaled deeply and leaned back against the wall until he slid down the paneling onto the floor with his knees to his chest and the pager's display in full view. It was twelve forty six in the morning, and here he was, stuck in a closet waiting for another opportunity he had no control over triggering. He reached one of his hands up and pressed it against the good side of his forehead, grabbing at his hair in thought. "Twenty three and a fifth hours," he muttered under his breath while he tried to keep himself calm and failed spectacularly.

As Cian settled in beside the shelves, Sebastian crossed the few steps across the small space and stood still beside him. "If I may, it might be less of a source of stress if you stopped keeping a running count," Sebastian suggested as inoffensively as he could to a person he knew wouldn't react well to any suggestions at all.

Cian pulled his hand partway away from his face, spreading his fingers so he could glare at Sebastian disapprovingly through them. He maintained that stare for about three seconds before he reluctantly looked away once more. "That's not your concern. And even if it were, we're inside a supply closet. It's not as if there's anything productive to occupy myself with," he rationalized right back.

"That is correct in concept. However, it is also possible that creating further pressure is to engage in a behavior that is _counter_-productive. I cannot help but to think it would be best you distract yourself with something else, regardless of how frivolous it may seem."

"What are you suggesting, that we hold a friendly chat?"

"That would be one alternative, yes."

"But, we're in a closet. Alone," Cian stated dryly, his eyebrow lowering with the distinct expression of a person who was so completely taken aback by what they were hearing that they'd circled all the way around the spectrum of emotions and settled on being impatient. Sebastian did his best to courteously overlook this.

"All the more reason it would be acceptable. We are far away from outside interference that we are not restricted by our supposed pretenses. While we are here, we can discuss whatever you would like," Sebastian offered as politely as was possible.

Cian sighed into the side of his arm. He slouched a little further into his knees and shifted his eye up towards where Sebastian towered over him. "I'm going to take it you don't care about the weather," he quipped, his delivery perfectly casual but the words plenty snarky enough to make up for it. Sebastian hadn't expected anything else.

"I would be willing to discuss whatever you would like to, regardless of its triviality. Weather is included," Sebastian said back, replying to the comment as if it was genuine because it wouldn't have made a difference if it were.

"Well, I suppose it's no worse than staring at the fabric of my shirt. In concept, anyway," Cian concluded. There really wasn't anything else he could do at the moment, so he didn't see any direct harm in making an attempt at it… so far.

A moment of increasingly awkward silence ensued. Though they had come to an agreement about wanting to speak, neither of them had a clear idea as to what they should say. It hadn't really occurred to Cian until this particular moment that, while he'd spent increasingly long periods of time around Sebastian, not once had he ever held a conversation with Sebastian merely for the sake of speaking to him. The usual default was to ask about the other person, but he knew Sebastian wouldn't be inclined to disclose that and there was very little Cian could mention that he already hadn't even if he'd wanted to.

Cian glanced away from his arms, referred back to where Sebastian was standing, and stared back towards him, unflinchingly serious and marginally more accusatory than he'd meant to be. "Since this is your inspired idea, what do _you_ propose we should talk about?" he asked.

Sebastian closed his eyes and smiled thoughtfully. "Whatever subject you choose to discuss, I would be willing to engage in. I am completely impartial," he stated in return, providing a complete answer while also providing absolutely nothing to work with.

"I'm not asking for your preference. I'm asking for an idea," Cian specified.

"Then, perhaps you should start by stating an insignificant fact about yourself, the type of information that you wouldn't ordinarily disclose because it seems trivial, or something of that nature," Sebastian suggested.

Cian stared down into his hands as he sorted through the various ideas that came to mind, and dismissed them all nigh instantaneously.

Sensing the rise in discomfort, Sebastian decided to amend his previous statement a little bit. "Of course, that would only apply if you feel comfortable with speaking of whatever it is I may not know. If that is too much to ask, you may always inquire something of me instead. While there is a great deal I cannot know in this limiting situation, I will do my best to respond accurately, if you so wish," he offered again.

A few seconds passed as Cian twiddled his fingers, thinking up what he might wish to know that didn't involve prying into the past or seeking out some ultimate truth—just a normal, everyday conversation. It took a few seconds for him to revert into a mental state that could even process an idea that didn't relate to supernatural troubles, but after a few moments of inner contemplation, he decided on something that could work. "Do you know if there's going to be a production of Hamlet anywhere in the general vicinity, soon? I checked the listings of Victoria's Shakespeare Society a few months ago, and they aren't, but I never looked in Vancouver or any of the surrounding areas," he asked.

It was a sudden enough change that it took a second or so of thought before Sebastian was able to provide an accurate reply. "Though it pends greatly on what your definition of 'the vicinity' includes, there are none of which I am aware. Is there a specific reason why you are curious?" he asked back.

"Because I'm fond of Senecan tragedies. Hamlet's the most common one to find… do I need to have a greater reason for everything I express some interest in?"

"Not at all, sir. It merely seemed as if you had something more you wished to say about the subject. I thought it may have had personal significance to you," Sebastian tried to rationalize before Cian could get offended, snippy or upset. He failed.

"Not everything has a deep-rooted psychological cause. I liked Portal, but it doesn't mean I fear that the pattern of scientific discovery will create a growing depersonalization until humans are mere flesh-covered tools for computers to use. It's somewhat overreaching. Actually, it's completely overreaching; presumptuous, even," Cian criticized.

Rather than allow that to bother him, Sebastian decided to take the implications in stride. "Your argument is awfully articulate for a matter as supposedly insignificant as this. One might even conclude you are protesting too much," he teased.

"…you know, I have _seen_ the play already. I own it on DVD, even. You can spare me the allusions. I just wanted to see it in person. That's all," Cian tried to clarify.

"Are you certain that is all you have to say about the subject?" Sebastian asked once more, not quite believing what Cian was trying to say so sternly was completely honest.

Cian's eye began to twitch and a vein began to stick out of the side of his forehead. "About five percent more so than I am that, no matter what I say, you won't stop asking until you hear the response you expect to, regardless of whether or not it's what I actually mean," he snipped back.

Sebastian smiled, gleaming with innocuous charm that made it blatantly apparent he saw right through Cian. "Whatever is it that you are referring to? You selected the topic of conversation. Not a single aspect of it has come from my mind."

"It didn't have to. You keep warping my words to suit your own perspective, regardless of whether or not it makes any sense to interpret them that way whatsoever," Cian remarked.

"I have known you long enough to understand that every word, regardless of how insignificant it may sound initially, carries a greater meaning. Whether or not you choose to acknowledge that meaning is merely incidental," Sebastian stated with that same, glistening smile. Even if Sebastian was somehow wrong, there was still a strategy to his insistence. By provoking Cian into being secretive and defensive, he was much too occupied to continue dwelling on their situation—and about that, he was undeniably right.

"This isn't inspiring a sense of confidence," Cian grumbled.

"You selected the topic specifically because it is insignificant. By that concept, what does it matter if I attempt to continue the conversation along a logical progression?"

"Because if I'd wanted to talk to you about it, then I would have brought it up myself," Cian scolded, on the verge of shouting at Sebastian. He really would have, were it not for the fact that they were still trying to hide.

"While I in no way intend for this to be critical, for the sake of this discussion, I feel it needs to be addressed. As skilled as you may be at other aspects of business, you are a dreadful conversationalist. Had I waited for you to continue the discussion, we would have spent minutes speaking of nothing at all," Sebastian tried to rationalize his actions. He was, of course, entirely right about this, but Cian didn't want to accept that.

"And bickering is so much better, then."

"In order to properly interact with people, it is necessary to be willing to exchange trivial information about oneself with others. It promotes a sense of camaraderie. There is only so much that can be gained from discussing shared personal experience, particularly so when you share so few. It would be to your benefit if you learned how to engage people in this way," Sebastian tried to explain, but his audience's attention didn't appear to be staying for long.

"Since when did this become Professor Sebastian's social etiquette hour?" Cian tried to dismiss.

"At the same moment when it became apparent you required it."

"I didn't ask for your advice, you know."

"If you wish to return to the previous topic of conversation, I would be more than happy to oblige, provided you put forth an effort to prove that you do not need instruction on how to do so. That includes responding to questions when asked. Whether or not your responses are truthful is entirely up to you, but you must at least appear to be engaging."

"…Fine. Understood. I don't see why it matters, but…" Cian sighed. He didn't see a point in arguing anymore, so he just stopped. That seemed to be good enough, because Sebastian dropped the subject and started to move on to something else instead.

"You have already seen it at least once, and you wish to see it again, so it stands to reason that you must like the play. Is there anything in particular which you appreciate about it?" Sebastian asked, genuinely innocuous this time. Cian seemed to recognize as much, so he answered.

Cian lifted his hand up towards his face and started to shift his bangs from one side to the other. "It has… personal significance, to me." It was especially ambiguous, but it was still an answer, at least on a technicality, which was progress enough for now.

"Oh, really? How is it significant?" Sebastian asked, collectedly curious.

Cian set one hand in front of himself dismissively, already assuming there had to be some kind of a misunderstanding. "It's not the play itself, so much as the act of going to see it, that's what I'm trying to get. I almost had the chance to see it once before when the Royal Shakespeare Company was performing it back in 2008. My father has to travel there once every two months on business, so I asked him if I could come along so I could see it… but something else arose and he changed his mind."

"I imagine that would be disappointing to you."

"I'm accustomed to it. It's not that significant, in any case. The only part I missed was getting to see David Tennant in person, and that's not…" Cian trailed off, a little more solemn and regretful than he'd intended to be.

Through context, there were a few aspects about the person in question he could presume, but even with those, Sebastian was left not entirely sure how he could respond properly without asking a question first. "Who is David Tennant?"

The instant that Sebastian finished his question, Cian's expression seemed to light up with a flash of enthusiasm. He snapped his head up towards Sebastian and began to explain. "The tenth doctor in Doctor Who. He's a Scottish actor, very expressive, been in a few miniseries and other movies as well as his Shakespearean experience. Oh, and there was also that radio drama of a Discworld noveli-!"

Before Cian could reach the end of his thought, he was distracted by the sensation of something vibrating in his hand. The screen on the pager illuminated with a series of incomprehensible abbreviations, followed with a room number and a reminder for the person who was supposed to be holding this pager to get there 'NOW'. Based on that instruction, it seemed as if the patient was in critical condition.

Cian flipped the pager around and extended it in Sebastian's direction, flashing the screen at him. Sebastian overlooked the information thoughtfully, taking the script in to memorize the location. "Can you find it?"

As Sebastian read the message, a sly yet courteous smile reappeared on his face. He lifted his hand to his chest and began to bow in Cian's direction. "Of course, my lord. A butler of Phantomhive should be-"

Before Sebastian could finish speaking, Cian lowered the pager from eye level, tossed it over into the restrained intern's lap, twisted the lock and opened up the door. He stopped partway through the doorframe by gripping onto the edge of it and peeked back inside, shooting Sebastian a mildly disapproving expression. "No time for catchphrases. Just wipe his memory and follow," he ordered.

Sebastian walked away from his position at the side of the room and knelt down beside the intern. He closed his eyes, raised a hand towards his forehead and released a short sigh. "While I value your faith in my abilities, to expect that I have the capacity to do this particular such a thing so hastily is rather presumptuous," Sebastian commented quietly, speaking solely to himself while he waved a few fingers in front of the unconscious man's face and drew the memory out as accurately as he could on such short notice.

A fraction of a second later, Sebastian stood up and disappeared down the hallway, joining up with where Cian had already run off to; which wasn't very far, considering how hastily he'd left. Sebastian and Cian exchanged a few silent glances, Sebastian questioning why Cian was so close while Cian seemed to be questioning why Sebastian had questions to begin with. Soon enough, they both set their ideas aside in order to focus on the aspects that were most relevant to their situation; finding where the reaper would appear.

Sebastian took hold of Cian's hand and strode ahead, pulling Cian behind him through the corridor. He looked over his shoulder every other moment to confirm that he was still there. Cian stumbled as he struggled to adjust to the rushed pace. After a few misguided steps, he fell into pace and grabbed onto Sebastian's hand in return, allowing Sebastian to place his attention where it was most needed—finding the reaper.

Sebastian ran through the corridors, up a stairwell, and onto the second floor. He turned to his left and continued down an empty hallway. Cian was notably confused by this. He looked to the numbers on the doors they passed and wondered why they were in the pediatric ward when the page had been responding to a new arrival. He might have asked this directly, but by the time they'd come to enough of a halt that he'd regained the capacity to speak, he already had an answer.

The two of them stared out of the second story window, gazing over the awning below. Sebastian listened attentively to the surroundings and stared down towards the floor expectantly. Cian glimpsed where Sebastian was staring for a few seconds, and then referred to the nearest room number. The intern was called to 128, and they were standing beside room 228, directly above the emergency. Cian's eye widened with realization. He twisted his head to refer towards Sebastian, but Sebastian never referred back. He continued staring towards the floor below, observing every minute detail with silent intent. Cian took a step backwards and began to do the same, waiting through the silence for what was about to occur, whatever it might be.

The floor crackled lightly, like the sound of someone tearing through cellophane while opening a gift basket. As he began to hear the noise, Cian started to retract his previous step, but stopped just short of setting his foot down. Sebastian's hand was still holding his, and Sebastian was standing in place. Unable to move far enough away to make it worth his effort, Cian prepared to reverse his reversal, and paused just short of doing that as well, albeit for a different type of reason.

A stream of blinding light broke through the surface of the tiled floor, forming a ripple through the center of the hallway. It flowed across the air like the crest of a wave, but instead of flowing across the ocean, it floated upwards onto the ceiling and waved across the top. Cian raised his free arm over his eye in order to block out as much of the light as he could. He watched through a squinted eye as the wave pulsed back out, returning the room to a state of pitch darkness. He blinked rapidly, and then referred back to the floor. The crack was still there, dimly radiating specks of brightened dust, but nothing had formed.

As stillness began to come over the room, Cian gripped the edge of his sleeve in his free hand, clutching the chain of his bracelet between his fingers. His mouth shifted to the side thoughtfully while he observed the crack so small that not even a paper doll could have passed through it. "There's no way that's i-"

Before he could finish his thought, the ground began to rattle. Cian could feel the unsteadiness, yet his feet remained firmly attached to the ground. The crevice in the floor stretched open, creating an oval-shaped gap that seemed to literally pull apart the fabric of reality, leaving only a swirling pool of pearlescent white beneath it. Cian would have tried to observe it more closely but the sight made him flinch on reflex. He shuddered involuntarily as a searing chill passed through his eye and across his body, rendering him completely unable to observe a thing beyond the pressure of a gloved hand pressing his mouth shut.

Sebastian pulled Cian backwards. He covered his mouth with his other hand, preventing any unnecessary attention from being drawn their way. Just because a reaper was capable of sensing a demon didn't mean they automatically would if they didn't have a reason to pay attention, so it was in their better interest not to give them one.

Once Cian appeared to be as calm and steady as he could be, or at the very least, understanding that he couldn't panic, Sebastian directed his full attention onto the portal. He could spot the silhouette of the reaper passing through the glowing shroud to the other side of the rift, onto the floor beneath them, and finally, away from the area.

The instant that the being was out of sight, Sebastian lifted Cian off of the ground. He placed one hand beneath his knees and the other around his shoulders to secure him. As he felt himself being pulled, Cian opened his eye for a moment. He was met with the sight of Sebastian staring down at him in such close proximity that the tips of their noses were grazing against each other's. Startled, Cian jolted back.

Sebastian readjusted his hold on his back in order to keep him steady. He took another silent step forward towards the light. As they grew closer, an invisible force whipped around them. It pulled at the edges of Sebastian's jacket as well as his hair and lifted them straight up towards the ceiling.

"It may be best to close your eyes, my lord," Sebastian suggested. Choosing not to read into the alternate implications this time, Cian placed his arms around Sebastian's neck, leaned inwards, and snapped his eye shut.

Sebastian placed one foot atop the hole in the floor, causing another, much stronger pulsation to blast throughout the room. An invisible column between the ceiling, floor, and the hole between realms began to ripple with the residual effects of the disturbance in space. Bursts of air thrust upwards in flashing waves at increasing rates, attempting to force the disturbance away. In spite of the resistance, Sebastian continued to step down into the hole with one foot, while he kept the other firmly on the hospital floor.

As he descended further in, every article of clothing or accessory on their persons began to rise up, as if gravity had begun to pull in the opposite direction. Sebastian closed his eyes to the resistance, lifted his knee as if walking down a staircase, and lowered it once again. He continued to paddle his way through the rapids, sinking further down until his legs could no longer stretch far enough apart to keep one foot on the ground. He made all the progress he possibly could, and now it was time to leap.

Sebastian shifted his foot along to the very edge of the hole and pushed off of the ground, flipping 180 degrees over to project himself head-first diagonally across the portal. The center of gravity never changed, but by doing so, the trajectory of how and where they would fall did. When he turned over in mid-air, his perspective changed as well. The endless abyss of the ground turning into the sky, and the gaping hole, while still a gaping hole, was once again buried deep into the ground.

A few seconds of falling later, Sebastian's left foot grazed against the ground. His right followed almost immediately as he landed cleanly on the ground. He lowered himself into a partial kneel and relaxed his hold over Cian slightly, still keeping him secure, but not placing too much pressure on him, which would give him the freedom to stand up. He positioned his head slightly above Cian's, aligning his mouth beside his ear so he could whisper as quietly as possible. "You may open your eyes, now."

When the words reached his ears, Cian's eye fluttered open, and shut back into a squint instantly. The light around them was so blinding he couldn't see through it at all; at least, not at first. He stood up from Sebastian's arms, feeling dizzied and generally disoriented. As his vision stopped blurring and his surroundings came into focus, all of these minor annoyances were thrust instantly out of mind. His eyelids shot open in stunned disbelief, barely able to comprehend what lie ahead. It was a five-tiered dome building made of stone and copper, standing diagonally across a crooked hill. The rooftops seemed to spiral into one another, intertwining in a manner that made the walls appear partially translucent, as if the pigmentation of the components was defined, but not the actual structure of the building. The cluster dipped down, allowing for each of the five domes to be visible from their angle. Each dome peaked at a single spike, all of which ran upright to form a crooked halo that spanned across the upper perimeter and reflected the dark green of the overgrown grass field below

Though the building itself was undeniably unusual, the jagged platform on which it stood was even more so. If one wasn't staring closely at the cliff-like structure, it may have appeared to be made of nothing but particularly deeply-colored grass, but when one looked closer, they could see the coloration of the large malachite stone spiral from rich green to a glistening black. A series of seven, thin black marble pillars held it firmly afloat against any laws of gravity, and the perimeter of all of this was surrounded by a wrought copper fence that spanned from the ground to the base of the cliff. Vines of fragmented emerald dripped from the walls like ivy, stopping only when disrupted by one of the many small platforms that encircled the edge of the fence which formed what appeared to be a spiral staircase.

The entire building glimmered in the distorted light, leaving Cian awestruck and not entirely sure what to think about it. By generally accepted logic, a building such as this shouldn't have existed, at least, not in the world he knew. This lead to the abundantly obvious conclusion that this was not the world he knew, nor was it anywhere close to it. Cian turned his head towards Sebastian with the intention of referring to him, but before he could start to ask a question, he noticed that Sebastian was staring towards the building as well.

With a much less panicked movement, Cian turned his head forward once more and refocused on the stone towers ahead of them. "It's as if the emerald city from Oz was run through a blender and the remains were redesigned by Goths. Or Tim Burton. So, I'll take it that's it?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yes. As it is the only structure in the vicinity, it could be nothing else," Sebastian answered in return, sounding much more assured than he appeared.

Cian's eye slanted. "That's not very solid reasoning," he muttered skeptically.

"If they are not here, then the information on how to seek them shall be. In either instance, it is a necessary measure."

As Sebastian spoke, Cian's eye drifted along the border of the building. He tucked a few strands of his hair behind his ear. "Only one way up?" he questioned.

"It would appear so," Sebastian answered immediately, concisely, and with no potential for ambiguity.

"Bloody architecture," Cian muttered slightly louder than before. He was more than willing to continue, but since there were much more important matters at hand, he set his internal complaints aside and redirected his attention towards Sebastian once more.

Without exchanging another word, Sebastian began to walk ahead, into the field of trees and overgrown, waist-length crystalized weeds that would lead them through a more indirect path to the stone towers. He parted the plants with his hand as he walked along at a moderate pace—slow enough not to make a sound, but swift enough to make good progress. Cian hurried along behind him.

Cian rushed through the brush, trying to push his way through the path Sebastian was creating in his wake before it disappeared, and for the most part, he was able to follow along. There was such a drastic difference in their heights that, while the plants could accurately be described as slightly above waist-length for Sebastian, the taller ones reached up to Cian's nose. It wasn't until a stray root crossed over the path that he started to fall behind. He stumbled to keep from tripping and instinctively grabbed for whatever was within arm's reach, which turned out to be one of the thicker weed stems.

As Cian's feet settled against solid ground once more, he turned ahead and squinted through the leaves to find where Sebastian had ended up. Under the circumstances, he couldn't speak, but he could still try to spot him. He sighed silently with relief when he spotted the black of his tailcoat within the brush. Cian released his hold on the nearest flower and began to run forward, but before he could finish his second step, something swept across his path and hit him on the side of the face.

Startled by the sudden contact, Cian turned to the source of the impact, bracing for the worst possible result. Instead he saw a flower, swaying lightly from side to side as it settled back into place. His eye travelled up the stem, settling on the cluster of cloudy, light blue crystal with red flecks that was growing out of it. He couldn't see it very well from this level, but something about it struck him as unusual enough to make his pulse skip. He reached up towards the stem and pulled the flower down to bring the cluster to eye level. When he stared closer at the surface, he could see that the gem wasn't blue and red, but rather, a sky colored crystal dripping with freshly drawn blood.

He held the stem down in one hand while the other one grazed against the side of his cheek. He could feel himself bleeding from a light scrape there. He continued to stare down at the crystal while he ran his finger across his skin to search for the source. He flinched with the sting of contact when he finally grazed it, and pulled his finger away immediately. The crystal flashed with a hazy white glow and extinguished, as if someone tried to turn on a light bulb and changed their minds. Curious and tense, Cian cupped his hands around the flower, pulling it further in. He stared into the depths of the crystal, gazing at the broken reflection on the other side. He could see his own eye a hundred times, the surface of the cut on his face, and also, something that wasn't supposed to be there.

"_Sebastian_…!" Cian called out in an urgent hush, getting the distinct impression that the scenario was about to take a turn for the worse. He was right, but it probably would have helped if he figured that out three seconds sooner.

Before he could say anything more, Cian felt the hooked edge of something sharp and metal scratch against his neck. It stopped just short of breaking skin and hooked into his clothing instead. The attached coil of what seemed to be fishing line wrapped around his shoulders and pulled his arms towards him. He tried to reach his hand up towards the hook that had latched into his collar, but before he could pull it out, he was yanked off of the ground and reeled backwards, directly into someone's grasp.

Cian couldn't spot many of the details from over his shoulder, but there were a few things he could see. The individual was tall, male, and had hair that was roughly the color of green tea, which was pulled back into a single braid that encircled his head like an artificial halo before coming to an end at the base of his neck. He was also holding a fishing rod, and had a stare so completely lacking in affect that he wouldn't have even passed for an android if he'd tried. Of course, the most relevant of these observations was the part about this individual strangling him with fishing wire. Once that started happening, the rest of those other details seemed pretty miniscule in contrast.

They pulled him further backwards across the grass, and once he was within arm's reach, pulled a second wire from their fishing rod and pulled the coil around Cian's head, threading the wire through his mouth and into the corner of his lips. "What are you doing here, demon?" they asked in a monotone so consistently collected, it past the point of sounding mechanical and circled around to being methodically ethereal.

"I'm n-" Before he could complete his first syllable, Cian felt the wire graze against his tongue. He inhaled deeply, tried to retain a level head, and as calmly as possible, lifted his tongue over the wire so he could speak in a whisper from the top portion of his mouth. "I'm not, a demon. I'm human," he whispered, his words muffled due to the lack of movement, but still discernable for what they were.

The reaper leaned over his shoulder and pulled the wire a calculated amount back, enough to be highly uncomfortable and make Cian lean a little bit, but not to break any skin in the process. "That's a ridiculous lie. No human is capable of seeing a rift unaccompanied. I can smell the stench on you, so there's no sense in dishonesty, demon. Now tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Some human must be able to, because I'm not lying. I'm not a demon," Cian protested as strongly and sternly as he could—which, considering that the wire in his mouth made him sound as if he was at the dentists' office having his teeth cleaned, wasn't the most intimidating sound one could possibly imagine, but he still tried.

The reaper jostled the fishing rod, sending a wave through the wire that ended with the hooks latching further into Cian's clothes. The movement of the wires forced Cian's head to twist to the side, limiting his field of vision so he had no choice but to look towards the reaper as they stared towards him. "The next time you answer indirectly, the result will be violent. Tell me, demon, what are you doing here?"

"I've already told you, I'm not a demon!" Cian shouted. He would have said more, but before he had the chance to, all of his thoughts were brought to an immediate stop. It was at that moment that he heard something clash. He started to twist his head to see what was there, but stopped just short when he felt the wire press further into the corners of his lips, and realized that wasn't such a wise plan.

Though he couldn't move away from his place, Cian could still hear the ever-familiar voice whisper threateningly from over his shoulder.

"I am."

Uncomfortable as it was to do so through the pressing wires, Cian couldn't help but to smirk in return when he heard Sebastian speak. Even though he couldn't see him directly, he already knew that Sebastian had to be doing the same.


	21. Foray

Chapter XXI: Foray

Sebastian had heard them approaching from a mile away, though in more practical terms of time, it had only been about half of a second before the source of this noise was standing in the general area, restraining the one they perceived as the invader within less time than it took most people to finish blinking. He had to compliment the reapers' forces about at least one thing; they were nothing else if not quick to respond. Their accuracy, however, was another matter entirely.

While Cian's fumbling and searching around the area had left him out in plain sight, an obvious anomaly, Sebastian had been quick to conceal himself from view by kneeling on the ground where he'd already stood and hiding his head beneath the greenery. It may have seemed cruel and risky to intentionally leave his master in the open like that, and to some degree it was, but ultimately it was more a matter of practicality than malice. If Sebastian had tried to escape, then both of them would be in plain sight, susceptible to further assault and inquiry. By kneeling within the patch of overgrown grass and weeds, shrinking behind the stem of a particularly tall dandelion-like flower, he'd managed to salvage one of the most valuable elements of all—surprise.

"What are you doing here, demon?" the reaper asked, icily accusatory towards the boy caught in his grasp. Sebastian locked his eyes on the creature, marking its every movement to determine what little he could from afar.

"I'm n- not, a demon, I'm human," Cian whispered. There was a strained quivering in his voice when he spoke, but the mere fact that he could speak meant that he was handling himself well enough for now.

The reaper's focus was settled firmly on Cian, their stare never wavering away from the subject ahead of him. They were as thoroughly distracted as anyone could be, and so long as there were no obvious disruptions in the area, they were going to stay that way.

There was no time to think too deeply about how best to proceed, so Sebastian settled for the most obvious approach of utilizing whatever he had on hand. There wasn't much that could combat a reaper directly aside from another reaper or their blade. Since neither of those things was immediately accessible at this exact moment, it wouldn't make much of a difference what he did choose to take, so he might as well go with whatever happened to be in reach. At this particular moment, that something happened to be flowers.

While under most circumstances, this would seem to be an extraordinarily bad idea, most flowers were composed of soft, living tissues that were easily bent and broken. Crystals, however, were much more tenacious, which in turn made it merely a very bad one. Sebastian listened carefully to the hushed exchange while he momentarily turned his back to the scene.

"That's a ridiculous lie. No human is capable of seeing a rift to cross it unaccompanied. I can smell the stench on you, so there's no sense in dishonesty, demon. Tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Some human must be able to, because I'm not lying. I'm not a demon."

Sebastian wrapped his hands around the circumference of a nearby flower and pulled. The first yank was able to twist it, and on the second try, he managed to uproot it. He took care to reposition himself rather than the flower and held the blossom steady so no discrepancies could be spotted while he spared a few final moments to evaluate the scenario once more.

The reaper had pulled Cian a short distance across the field, holding him almost directly in his grasp because of it. The two were closely enough intertwined that it would be difficult to strike the reaper from the front or side without running the risk of hitting Cian as well. The reaper's full attention was settled on Cian, staring directly at him with a frozen, stern stare. "The next time you answer indirectly, the result will be violent. Tell me, demon, what are you doing here?"

Sebastian moved a few steps to the side and started to approach, all the while continuing to hold the flower into the air as he walked, his arms aligning with two of the leaves so he wasn't obviously visible if someone wasn't searching for him. With how much attention was being directed elsewhere, if the reaper had seen something moving, he'd probably assume he imagined it.

"I've already told you, I'm not a demon!" Cian yelled in protest, becoming far more unsettled by the scenario than he had been before.

That was the closest thing to a cue as Sebastian was going to receive, so he might as well take it. Sebastian pulled the flower out of the air, away from obvious view, and dashed ahead. Within the matter of a second, he'd already approached them directly, fell down onto one knee, flipped the flower so that the rooted edge would be facing away from himself and lodged the stem between the fishing pole and its wielder.

He spared only a fragment of a second in order to do something other than attack, and instead, just stared back with a collectedly sinister smirk. The reaper didn't even see him do it, but if he had, he'd have seen the white surrounding the irises of his widened eyes when he spoke those two small words.

"_I_ am."

The moment he finished speaking, Sebastian took hold of the stem by placing one hand on each side of it. He pulled forward, causing both the reaper and the fishing pole to sway slightly towards him. Before they had the opportunity to form a reaction, Sebastian then released the top half of the stem from his grasp and used his lower hand to simultaneously swing it down and push forward, knocking the reaper slightly backwards while also obscuring their vision in a cloud of dirt in the process. The reaper swayed slightly backwards from the impact, but managed to retain their ground, at least for the time being. He raised his free arm over their eyes and started to wipe the dirt away just in time to be sent skidding backwards by another swift blow from the stem, this one a swing to their arm.

The reaper retained his grip on his weapon and planted his left foot, holding his ground. He stared warily towards Sebastian, scrutinizing him in every way they could without using their already occupied weapon to do so. "Then answer me, demon, what are you doing here?" they asked again, repeating the question in the same inflectionless drawl.

Sebastian took advantage of the reaper's momentary pause to swing up at their wrists and attempt to knock the pole out of their grasp. The reaper pulled their hands in towards their body, yanking Cian along with them. Cian choked uncomfortably and tried to shake off the throbbing headache he was starting to feel. It didn't help much. Sebastian followed up by intentionally allowing the reaper to pass them by and swinging towards their legs to knock them over. The reaper leapt over the oncoming pole, planted one foot back onto the ground, and used the other to kick Sebastian in the face.

Cian could practically feel the recoil himself when the blow connected. This was partly due to the fact that the result was causing him to barely be able to breathe; a process which he had to stand on his tip-toes in order to continue to maintain. He glared towards Sebastian, who he could now finally face, just in time to convey to him that this wasn't the best technique he could have chosen.

When the reaper had attempted to kick him away, Sebastian decided it was only fair for him to discard his weapon as well. He purposely chose not to dodge the kick in order to catch the reaper's foot in mid-air and twisted it. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but that is a matter I am not at liberty to discuss," he answered calmly. While there was little confidence in his inflection, it was apparent from the look on his face that it was just as much a boast as a reply.

In spite of the less-than-favorable position he was currently in, the reaper tried to maintain his balance and a level lead, stretching his leg so he could face Sebastian at least semi-directly when he spoke back. "If you don't say, then I must assume the worst, and I will act accordingly," the reaper stated just as calmly as before, seemingly unfazed.

Rather than waste valuable time giving a witty retort first, Sebastian immediately gripped the reaper's ankle as tightly as he could, swung, and released his grip, sending them backwards into the brush. The handle of their weapon was still firm in their grasp, but the reel hadn't been nearly so secure, and as he flew backwards through the air, the line on the pole flew out along with him. "If that is what you so insist, then you are welcome to try, but in that instance, I must forewarn you that your worst and mine may differ greatly. I suspect mine to be far less merciful than yours," Sebastian said.

As the line extended, the loop restraining Cian's arms loosened. Gradually, the line started drooping towards the ground until the entire thing fell to his feet, its only remaining grasp being the hook latched into the collar of his shirt and patient gown. Cian ripped the hook out from his clothing, lightly scraped at the edge of his mouth to grab the piece of line that had settled there, and dropped the hooks to the ground. He then spared no time in running into the brush to hide as far from obvious sight as possible. When he was short enough to barely avoid getting swallowed in this brush standing upright, he might as well take advantage of it.

In the meanwhile, after a few seconds of gliding through the atmosphere, the reaper had been brought to a sudden stop by crashing into the stem of a weed. He slid down the surface and fell onto the ground. He scraped his clothing a little in the process, but by no means stunning him. It was less than a second before the reaper stood back up to his feet, both hands secure on his weapon once more. His expression narrowed slightly in dissatisfaction; the most emotion he'd displayed so far.

He pressed a button at the top of their reel, causing both of their lines to be sent back in, then shifted the position of the handle and cast the line out once again, this time sending it into mid-air. He twisted the handle in a circle, causing the line to swing overhead like a lasso or a whip charging to strike. Sebastian grabbed the stem of his uprooted weed and extended it ahead of him diagonally, bracing for whatever would follow. Without a moment's notice, the reaper leapt off of the ground into mid-air. They swung their arms behind their back, outstretching the fishing pole, and slashed the line across the ground below. The hooks parted the grass on two separate sides, forming parallel lines on each side of Sebastian so he couldn't escape by moving away.

It went against his initial instincts to do so, but when the lines seemed as if they were coming towards him, Sebastian placed his pole upright and stood directly in place to avoid the hooks' trajectory. It wasn't a technique that would work for long, but it kept him out of reach until the reaper entered back into his.

The reaper landed on the side of a leaf and slid back onto the ground below, landing with a glide. They slashed their hooks across the grass, slicing through giant chunks of it in one fell swoop, which Sebastian had to jump up in order to avoid. Once Sebastian was in mid-air, the reaper changed the line's trajectory with a flick of their wrist and slashed upwards to swing the hook into Sebastian's foot. Sebastian countered by slashing the hook away with the weed. The fishing line wrapped around the bottom ledge, pressing harder on the stem until it scraped through the crystal and with a pop of friction sparks, sliced straight through it.

Sebastian landed lowly on the ground. He leaned one leg out to the side and his torso along with it so as not to stand over the grass as a clear target. The reaper continued to swing their line, this time to his left, spinning it in a circle in order to retain momentum while he decided where to make it strike next. Sebastian reached onto the ground and picked up the broken chunk of the stem. He threw it towards the side of the reaper's head. They swept their arm to the side and deflected the shot with a crack of their line, slicing the stem in two. The moment that the blow struck, the reaper turned to face Sebastian once more, but by the time they'd stopped aiming and thought to look, Sebastian had already dispersed.

For a moment, the reaper stood in place, swinging his line overhead, feeling confused as to where the demon could have gotten off to in such a short period of time. They turned their head over their shoulder and peeked to the other side, but nothing appeared to be there, either. Slowly, his eyes began to drift up, glancing through his bangs to stare at the sky though a barely-raised brow when an oddly focused breeze began to approach. Reflexively, he flicked his wrist up, deflecting the oncoming object with his fishing line. A rock fell to the ground. The reaper then slashed his whip across the field, over the general area of where the rock had come from. When he didn't feel any recoil from connecting with a solid person, his eyes shifted back to the field just in time to see where it had come from.

Cian was hunching over himself as lowly as he could possibly get without placing his stomach against the dirt, peering up through the cover of his hair. The moment he realized that he was spotted, he started to push back and started t scurry away. The reaper flicked his rod, causing the hook to come slashing down into the floor. Cian narrowly managed to tuck his leg beneath him in time to avoid being ensnared again. His expression contorted with unease.

As the reaper began to approach, swinging the line of their rod beside them like a circular saw, Cian's eye widened with the most pathetic, innocent panic he could muster. His mouth dripped open slightly once more, his bottom lip quivering as he struggled to decide on what to say. "Don't, don't do that, please! I swear to you, we just got lost," he pleaded with feigned desperation.

The reaper came to a stop overhead, just a few inches away from where Cian was resting. He continued to spin his wire, holding the top of the pole in one hand to ensure that it would keep moving in the proper direction while the other stayed firmly on the handle. There was no obvious change in his intent, at least in his expression, but for that moment, he'd stopped approaching. For one long, excruciatingly tense moment, the reaper stared down towards Cian in contemplation. "Whether you are human or demon, tell me how you got here," he stated in a monotone.

Cian inhaled, shaking slightly as he did so in order to convey as much harmlessness as he could feign. His teeth chattered for about two seconds, and then he spoke up. "There was a hole in the hallway. It was dark. I wasn't watching where I was going, and I must have fallen through it, I, I think," he sputtered.

The reaper repositioned their weapon, still holding the cord, but in a different way. He swung the line from side to side, creating a twisted loop in mid-air in a manner similar to a figure-eight. He sighed lightly. The sound was distorted through the warped air, reaching the other side with the same quality as a person trying to talk into a fan.

"There is only one way in which I can verify that you're telling the truth to me, and that is if you do not say it," the reaper stated plainly. He took a shuffled step forward, encroaching upon Cian's personal space to hover directly over him, the pendulum rising narrowly overhead so the slashing gust it generated hit immediately against his skin. All the while, the reaper's expression remained completely stagnant. "Please, don't panic. If you are being honest, then no further harm shall come to you," they stated.

Cian didn't intend to genuinely panic, and so far he'd been able to manage, but as he sat beneath the pair of hooks, watching their blurry tails sway less than a centimeter away from his skin, a few doubts were beginning to sprout in his head. He exhaled what little he could and refocused on an aspect he could control—stalling."Not just me. Him. You can't hurt him," Cian whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking but not quite there, improvising off of the first sympathetic idea to come to mind.

"It is rare for a demon to make an honest mistake. If he has somehow done us no harm, then I promise I shall do the same for the vile thing, too. Hold still," he instructed with a detached, nearly clinical lack of empathy or emotion.

The reaper continued to swing the hooks overhead. He lowered them gradually nearer until the brush of wind became the chill of metal grazing against the surface of Cian's skin. As the contact repeated, he started to feel the bladed tip scrape against him, digging against the surface but not quite breaking it. He took another, shallow breath and closed his eye while attempting not to focus on whatever was about to occur. At the same time, Sebastian hurried to finish his preparations. He leapt up the side of one of the flowers and balanced on the crystal atop it, providing himself with the closest thing to a birds' eye view as he could aspire to find in this situation.

Sebastian steadied his feet on the surface beneath him. He reached over his shoulder, pulled out a long crystalized vine, spun it a few times for momentum, and tossed it flower-end first towards the reaper around their waist. With one smooth, seemingly effortless tug, Sebastian pulled the reaper away from Cian and lifted him into mid-air similarly to how one would hang a piñata.

As the reaper and his weapon literally flew out of sight, it was initially the most that Cian could do to just stare. Of all the ways this could have gone, he honestly hadn't been expecting that.

"Now, now, I do not take kindly to those who threaten my territory. Seeing as you most likely feel the same in regard to yourself, I would have proposed we reach a compromise, but it appears that may no longer be required," Sebastian stated with a victorious smile towards the reaper below, which was considerably easier to do now that the stem of the plant was drooping partway down.

Sebastian gradually reeled in the ivy. He kept a watch on the reaper as he did so. He was doing quite a bit of flailing while trying to cast their line in such a way that it would break through, none of which were particularly successful. Once he had pulled the reaper far enough into the air that he was within arm's reach, Sebastian took a few gradual steps off of the crystal blossom and back down onto the dirt field. He continued to hold the reaper up by the back of the vines and dangled him so he couldn't stand on his own.

No longer stunned by the possibility of falling into a different trap, the reaper attempted to fling their weapon with the line pulled in towards Sebastian's face while he wasn't looking. The key word in that phrase having been 'attempted', Sebastian was able to see it coming almost immediately and was able to deflect the blow accordingly by shifting himself out of the way, grabbing onto their wrist with one hand and yanking the attempted attack back in towards them. This caused the reaper to stab him in the back. As blood began to flow from the wound at the back of his neck, invisibly to anyone else in the surrounding area, so did his memories. The reaper's eyes glossed over with even less of a display of emotion than before as he was temporarily locked inside his own mind.

Sebastian decided to take advantage of the situation by further restraining them. He twisted the reel of the fishing line, extending the cord just long enough to bind the reaper's limbs together, and then wrap them around one of the many weeds nearby for a little added security. The field was deserted enough that, so long as the reaper didn't wake up and call for help, it wasn't likely they would be reported until after their work was already finished, so it was important he restrain him in a way that prevented him from doing so for as long as possible.

While Sebastian had been busy creating the final blows, Cian spent most of the time merely watching. He tilted his head to the side and raised his brow quizzically as he pondered just what Sebastian was intending to accomplish by doing this. As he circled around the body with the wire alone, it was almost as if he was purposely avoiding contact with the reaper's scythe… an act which was particularly peculiar when one considered that a fishing rod had no sharp edges to be concerned about.

"Forgive me if this is obvious, but, why don't you just take the weapon out of his hands and pull it around him that way? Seems like it'd be more efficient," Cian suggested, speaking up while still managing not to speak loudly.

Sebastian didn't pause to look back at Cian, instead focusing his attention on pulling the line away from the weed so he could make every loop as taught as possible. "In concept, yes, but in reality, it would be largely ineffective to do so," he explained in such a way that he avoided actually explaining anything.

Cian's eyebrow lowered, in no way willing to accept that as sufficient. "Why so?"

"It's a complicated matter," Sebastian tried to dismiss.

"For some reason or another, lately, everything I ask of you is."

"It is a complex situation, sir. It only makes sense that the elements of which it is comprised would be multifarious as well."

"It's directly relevant to the situation, and I order you to tell me," Cian denied the attempt immediately.

"We may lack sufficient time to-," Sebastian tried to suggest.

"Then tell me as we go," he stated matter-of-factly.

Sebastian sighed lightly as he looped another coil around the body, this one around his knees. "As you wish, sir," he answered.

As was usual when he made that particular comment, Cian's expression contorted a little with the inner urge to call Sebastian 'farm boy'. This was an urge he could only defeat by closing his eye and envisioning the scene in his head, including the most obvious retort to such a reference. He dismissed the idea with the conclusion that he didn't especially want to encourage the parallel one could take from that.

Sebastian used the momentary pause that formed in order to determine how best to summarize the subject at hand. He glimpsed over in Cian's direction, noticed that he wasn't looking this way, and shifted behind the grass so he'd be momentarily obscured from view while he knelt down onto one knee and finished securing what he needed to.

"While an ordinary weapon can be picked up by anyone familiar with the equipment, a scythe is far more temperamental in nature than that. While my sources of information are limited in accuracy and detail, it is my current understanding that a reaper's scythe will start off in a neutral state and must bond with the individual it comes to recognize as its owner, creating a state of synchronicity between the wielder and weapon that it allows it to function at its full capacity," he explained calmly while he worked.

"So it's like soul resonance from Soul Eater?" Cian interrupted.

Not knowing what it was that Cian was referring to with that statement, Sebastian chose to ignore it and continued with what he had intended to say to start with. "This state draws the weapon to them. It will only function while in contact with the soul it has bound to, and if contact is broken, the scythe will then cease working entirely. If any other person attempts to pick up a weapon which is already bound to an individual soul, it will disappear from their grasp and rematerialize beside its bonded wielder," Sebastian said while he concentrated on tying the restraints into a suitably secure knot.

"So it's like a keyblade from Kingdom Hearts," Cian interrupted again.

Once again, Sebastian made a point of ignoring him to finish speaking. "Not only that, but scythes cannot be assigned to an individual. The scythe, not the wielder, is what initiates the bonding process, and once bound, they exist entirely as an extension of their wielder."

"So it's like a wand in Harry Potter, too."

"Seeing as I am not familiar with whatever it is you are speaking of, I could not say with certainty."

"An anime, a video game and a novel, respectively…" Cian muttered. His thoughts drifted astray and on to the next question. "Then how will I know which one to take?"

"I am afraid I do not know. You may need to rely on your instincts for that one."

Cian didn't feel especially reassured by this. "But I don't have their instincts," he stated plainly.

"I never claimed they would be accurate, merely that you may need to do so."

Having reached the end of what Sebastian believed he would need to explain, he finished off the restraints by stabbing the second hook through a portion of the reaper's leg and jabbing it into the center of the stem. He stood up from the ground and wiped his hands together to rub off whatever excessive dirt he could. The few specks of blood that had ended up on his gloves wouldn't be removed so easily, but that couldn't be helped, so he paid little mind to that.

With that matter as attended to as it could ever be, Sebastian turned around, motioned towards Cian, and very gradually began to move along. Cian had been watching closely enough that he spotted the wave and immediately followed. He had to sprint the first few steps with an elongated stride in order to catch up with Sebastian, but as soon as he had, he was able to reach a much more comfortable length and fell into step just slightly behind him.

Cian's expression grew puzzled as he attempted to process what Sebastian had told him. At first, he attempted to dismiss the discrepancy as being completely insignificant to this situation, but the more he tried to deny that there was one, the more glaring the error became in his head. No matter how many ways he flipped what he'd been told, one part of that idea wouldn't sit right for one very obvious reason he couldn't help but to reach back out and tug on Sebastian's sleeve for his attention. Sebastian looked over his shoulder towards Cian when he did so, and the moment he moved, Cian spoke up

"If a scythe is bound to its wielder and can't be so much as touched by anyone else at all like you claim it is, then why was it that you were able to hold and activate Grell's scythe all those years ago? I doubt they've made any recent bounds in scythe security technology, so there must be something else," Cian asked, partly skeptical and entirely curious to hear how Sebastian was going to manage to justify this one.

Sebastian didn't appear nearly as phased by this criticism as Cian had expected. Instead, he just smiled thoughtfully for a moment, turned to face ahead, and began to explain. "That incident was a very particular circumstance. Due to the nature of it, ordinary restrictions did not apply to that scythe," Sebastian stated in a hush quiet enough not to invite being overheard while still being comprehensible.

Cian tried to hasten his pace a little bit, rushing ahead until he was moving alongside Sebastian instead of just near him. He stared up towards him with an impatient twitch. "Are you going to explain why, or do I need to prompt you into it?" he asked.

Sebastian smiled back. "In either case, I believe you just did," he stated in return. Rather than wait for Cian to make another impatient aside, he continued to the point in the most direct way he could think of.

"As one might be able to infer, the inner workings of a scythe are intricate. They were designed for a very limited purpose, and their functioning is rigidly set to adhere to those few set guidelines, with very little about the object able to be altered by its wielder. It is, however, possible to bypass these natural blockades in order to tamper with the inner workings of the scythe for further custom engineering, such as the unregulated chain saw he possessed. Because of the gravity of the various potential side-effects this may result in, doing so is gravely discouraged, and due to the inherent security risks to both oneself and the scythe, it is rare that a reaper will do such a thing. In the instances when they are illegally modified, it tends to be obvious due to the outlandish designs that they are adapted into. Grell's was one such example of this. Having already observed this, it was only sensible that I take advantage of such a prime opportunity."

As Sebastian reached the end of his explanation, Cian continued to stare with expectation. It took a second and two steps forward for him to realize that was all he had to say, and Cian's expression shifted into a quizzical stare. "So, it's similar to how if someone jailbreaks their iPhone, it leaves it susceptible to viruses and defects that the standard version can keep out?" he asked, trying to specify.

"I believe that would be the same concept, yes," Sebastian couldn't state that definitively because he didn't know what an iPhone was, let alone how they happened to work, but it sounded like the same general idea, so he was willing to go with that.

Satisfied with the explanation, Cian set his attention forward, watching the horizon ahead. No longer distracted by the conversation, Sebastian hastened his pace and lengthened his stride, moving ahead at least twice as quickly as before. For the first few seconds, Cian failed to notice the shift in pacing. When he finally did, he sprung off the ground and sprinted towards Sebastian, running as quickly as possible across the field so he could maintain the proper pace. His eye shifted back in Sebastian's direction once more, narrowed in a mildly irate stare that Sebastian chose to ignore. Instead, Sebastian smirked in Cian's direction, maintained the pace which Cian could match, and extended a hand towards him. It was evident from the look in his eyes that he had some sort of a plan in mind—which was good, since one of them had to figure out how to first break inside, and Cian didn't have a clue.

Cian held his hand back out towards Sebastian's, not quite grabbing his, but fully within reach. It had been Cian's expectation that when Sebastian took hold of it, he was going to start running faster ahead and drag him along behind him, using the hand to ensure he didn't fall behind. This expectation was completely shattered by what Sebastian actually did. Rather than simply taking his hand and taking off, Sebastian grabbed Cian by the wrist and lifted his arm up just about to his eye level. Cian blinked briefly and twisted to watch what in the world Sebastian was doing. His mouth began to droop with an oncoming question, but by the time he managed to make it form, he could already observe the answer.

Sebastian pushed up the sleeve of Cian's sweater, placing his wrist in full view, and far more importantly, the charm bracelet that he was wearing around it, as well. As soon as he spotted the charm, he let go of Cian. "I see that you have brought our diversion," Sebastian observed.

Cian abruptly jerked his arm away and lowered it back towards his side. He shifted his eye towards Sebastian. "Of course I did. I don't have the memory of a goldfish," Cian defended himself.

Cian's eye shifted to glance briefly down towards the bracelet, observing as the charm dangled from side to side while he ran, considering how he'd even come up with the idea while the two of them had been plotting earlier that evening. There wasn't much they'd been able to coordinate, but this one idea was among them, and hopefully it'd help them once they were inside. That, of course, dismissed the preliminary condition that they make it inside to begin with. The entrance was all up to Sebastian's proficiency at finding a way in, and Cian just had to hope he'd succeed soon enough.

While Cian wasn't looking, Sebastian decided to take action into his own hands by taking Cian into them as well. Sebastian picked Cian up and carried him against his back. This resulted in an anticipated jolt of shock from Cian when he realized he was being moved, followed by the grumble of a possible threat, and finally, Cian wrapping his arms around Sebastian's neck to hold on and cooperate while Sebastian circled around the perimeter of the castle.

At first, Cian attempted to keep his eye open and watch while they passed, in case he would be able to spot something Sebastian couldn't. When he tried to catch a glimpse, however, the only thing Cian could make out was a green and auburn blur of the scenery from so many different angles he could barely distinguish the colors that passed by. He blinked his eye shut, rested his head against Sebastian's shoulder with an impatient twitch and settled for allowing Sebastian to finish the search on his own.

Sebastian continued to run around the border of the field. He wove strategically through the grass and weeds while also fixing his attention on what lie past it. In order to avoid being detected, he was sprinting as quickly as he possibly could. Not even Sebastian was entirely sure of what he was running past, but he could still tell what he was looking for, and that was more than enough for him to know how to recognize an open window on the top floor of the lowest tower.

Sebastian continued to move around the perimeter for another lap, both to ensure that there wasn't anything easier to spot and to take note of where the guards stood. Once he had a feel for the area, he decided it was the best possible approach he could take, eliminated any possible reservations from his mind with conviction that he couldn't afford to fail, and ran towards the structure. Before he could even be concerned about reaching the storm drain, first he had to make it up to the cliff. That was another feat entirely, but he wasn't considering it a problem. All he had to do was run. Of course, he had to move vertically up the gated fence in order to manage this, but that was technically still running. Without a moment of hesitance, Sebastian bounded off of the ground and onto the fence. His feet tapped atop the diagonal lines within the fence and sprung almost immediately off of them. By using those cracks in the surface to help maintain his balance against gravity, he began to scale the wall.

As Sebastian progressed further, Cian began to feel very uneasy, almost as if he was being pulled backwards. Unsure of what was happening, he opened his eye to get a better look, noticed that the force trying to pull him down was gravity, and tightened his grip to Sebastian for the sake of not plummeting to his death. He tried to speak, but they moved so quickly through their surroundings that any whisper he could make was swallowed by the sound of wind resistance, so he quickly stopped trying and just stayed put, watching through a sideways glance as they rose further away from the ground.

Sebastian didn't stop to pause upon reaching the platform. He wove through the crowd of lingering reapers into a narrow crevice between two of the towers, enshrouded in shadows much too dark to see through. Cian hardly had the opportunity to recognize they were on solid ground again before Sebastian set him down and pushed him against a wall by outstretching his arm over Cian's torso to pin him there. Cian snapped his head in Sebastian's direction, trying to take note of what he was doing at the time, only to see the back of Sebastian's head. While Cian was trying to analyze him, Sebastian was already busy watching someone else.

As the residual wind of Sebastian's running pushed through the crowd, a few of the reapers in the general vicinity turned their heads in the direction of the movement. Their expressions grew puzzled. There was clearly something amiss, but when they turned to survey the area, they couldn't determine what. After a few seconds, the curiosity in their expressions turned to dispassionate complacency, and they returned to whatever tasks they were supposed to be attending to. Every ten seconds or so, another reaper would pass by the gap, and it was the most they could do to hope none of them decided to look.

Sebastian turned his head towards Cian. He stared into his eye with a severe, serious expression that was trying to convey the gravity of the situation at a moment where that really wasn't as necessary as Sebastian seemed to think it was. "Do not move," Sebastian stated.

"Wasn't planning on it," Cian whispered back.

Sebastian noted to himself that he should have expected a comment like that. He chose not to comment back. Instead, he moved his arm away from the wall, no longer pinning Cian against it. Cian adjusted to press himself further against the surface and maintained eye contact, sending Sebastian an urgent stare. Sebastian returned the attention with a much calmer expression and reached down to grab Cian's wrist. Startled by the unexpected approach, Cian pulled his hand towards his chest on reflex.

"If it is not an imposition unto you, sir, please give me your hand once more. I shall return it shortly," Sebastian stated quietly. It was evident in the manner he spoke that he wasn't making a simple request just because he thought it'd be amusing. That was for the best, because if it had been to amuse Cian, it did a really abysmal job of it.

"It'd better be attached to the rest of me when you do," Cian stated back as caustically as ever.

"I assure you, it will be," Sebastian promised back.

Cian extended his hand towards Sebastian, allowing him to take it. There were a lot of bitter asides he was inclined to make, but at a moment such as this, there were better things to direct ones attention towards.

Sebastian wrapped his fingers around Cian's palm, holding it in such a way that Cian's fingertips were facing up. With his other hand, Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a sewing needle. Before Cian had the opportunity to do more than open his mouth in preparation to ask why Sebastian even had a needle in his pocket, Sebastian had already stabbed the needle into his finger. Cian's eye widened at the unexpected jab, which he followed up with an accusatory glare in Sebastian's direction. Sebastian's expression remained calmly indifferent throughout the attempt at a non-verbal exchange. It wasn't especially helpful.

"Care to explain why?" Cian asked in an irritated hush.

"Human blood is required to summon a demon from such a charm. Considering you are the only human in the vicinity, you shall need to do. Keep the wound bleeding for now," Sebastian instructed. He used the hand he was already holding in order to pull Cian back towards him and grab him by the waist. Rather than allowing himself to be outwardly startled this time, Cian just stared up towards Sebastian with an unimpressed stare.

"You actually answered me. Couldn't think of a satisfactory snappy convoluted remark, or are you just trying to avoid a pattern?" Cian remarked dryly.

Sebastian started to grin back to that observation, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on that aspect for long. He took a step backwards, crossed over to the opposite end of the narrow crevice they'd been hiding in, set his foot against the back of the other tower's wall and launched up of it with a bound towards the nearest window. He tapped his foot against every ledge of a window or crevice from molding in reach as he flitted invisibly up the side of the wall. "I simply thought that this was not the time. I have plenty of 'snappy convoluted remarks' in reserve should you wish to hear them," he whispered back to Cian as he scaled the building.

Cian grabbed on tightly to Sebastian's arms. While he was in this position, it was the only part of Sebastian he could reach or see to hold onto. "No, no, by all means, continue being straightforward. I could do with this more often," he stated back, watching through an open eye as the side of the building passed by in a deep green blur. He could have also done for receiving clear explanations for Sebastian's actions before he made them, but one could only ask so much.

It ended seconds later, if it had even taken that long, atop of the ledge of the tallest window on the shortest turret, facing inwards to the other four buildings in the cluster. The architecture all came back into view, along with the much more unsettling height at which they were standing. Sebastian set Cian back down on his feet for a moment while Sebastian pried the window open, leaving Cian standing on the ledge of what had to be an at least 8-story tall building, watching at least a hundred little dots of supernatural creatures walking below, any of which could easily look up, spot him as an intruder, and potentially kill him with a single blow. If he didn't already know the answer, he'd be wondering how in the world he kept getting involved in this. Instead, he kept a grip on the back of Sebastian's jacket to indirectly convey that he was still there, and waited for Sebastian to pry the window open.

After one final swing from a knife against the latch, the locks came undone, and Sebastian pulled the window open. He took hold of Cian's arm, stepped through the window, and pulled Cian through along with him. The two of them immediately slipped down directly beneath the window to hide from sight.

A quick look around the area revealed both why this was an ideal place to start and why this was going to take far more energy than one would hope. The turret in which they were sitting appeared very much abandoned, cobblestone interior, dusty cobweb motif and all, but it was also pitch-black, narrow and, with the exception of a single spiral staircase in the center of the room, completely empty.

The moment that they stepped down upon the floors of the room, Cian had expected for some sort of an alarm to sound and an influx of security to swarm upon them, or at the very least, arrows to start shooting from the ceiling to try and scare them away. Instead, the surroundings stayed entirely still and strangely undisturbed by their presence. He would have thought they'd use a lot more security than this. Cian looked towards the staircase and tried to view up it, but failed to see a thing. "Is that where the storage room is?" he questioned towards Sebastian, still whispering out of caution and habit.

"I do not believe so, no," Sebastian answered.

"Then why are we here, exactly?"

"To ensure our safe passage while we find it," Sebastian stated back.

Cian glanced down towards the charm bracelet with a mildly sour expression. He flicked his wrist, rattling the chain while he did so. "And we're back to ambiguous convolution. That didn't take long," he muttered.

"I assure you, I will locate the room soon enough. It is simply in our better interest to shift the odds in our favor as much as possible before we attempt to do so," Sebastian explained.

Cian's eyebrow lowered. "Clearly you've never read Discworld. What we want isn't the best odds, it's a million-to-one-chance, _that's_ what does it."

While he hadn't been able to pass up the chance to make what could quite possibly be the last witty geek reference he'd ever have the opportunity to make, Cian reached down towards the only charm on the chain bracelet. He prepared to set his finger upon it, but before he could manage to graze it, Sebastian interrupted. "Place your hand out the window or you will summon him inside," he advised

Though Cian wondered briefly what the issue would've been with summoning the other demon inside, he did as he was told. Cian extended his hand just over the ledge of the windowsill, clutched the charm against his hand and pressed his fingertip against it. He slowly pulled his finger down against the ridged side, tracing a line in blood while he waited for a change. In an instant, the charm began to vibrate in his hand. He shut his hand into a fist around the charm, trying to keep it concealed as a vibrant, almost electric blue light began to stream out of it. As quickly as it had started, the rattling came to an unexpected stop, with very little apparent explanation for why it had.

Cian began to twist away from the window so he could take a peek outside, but before he could turn far enough to see, he was stopped by a powerful tug on his wrist. It pulled him back against the wall and almost yanked him over the ledge. Before he could be at risk to fall, Sebastian grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to the side to keep him on the floor, and in the process of doing so, pulled a newer arrival into view as well.

Upon entering a reasonable range of the windowsill, Valentine grabbed onto it. He fumbled in an attempt to find his grasp on the ledge. His black nails dug against the rock, leaving visible scratches in the surface where he'd tried and failed to do so. After about the fourth try, he managed to reach around to the inside of the room and found some support.

Once he was no longer at a risk of falling, he sighed in relief, let go of Cian's hand and grabbed onto the ledge with the other one as well. He lifted his chin over the window and looked inside of the room, a genuinely cheerful, quivering smile settled on his face. "H-h-hello, there. You're awfully high up today, aren't we?" Valentine asked in a sheepish whisper. He stared into the room with the kind of hesitance that a person experienced when staring at a horror movie they knew was about to try a jump scare, but couldn't anticipate exactly when the monster was going to appear; only that it would.

Cian leaned up against the wall beside the window, holding his wrist in his other hand while flicking it to the side in an attempt to regain the feeling there. The chain bracelet jingled, causing the pitch-black charm to sway from one side to the other as he moved it.

While Cian was busy occupied with himself, Sebastian approached the window from the opposite side. He stood directly to the side of the frame, just out of view if anyone were to look outside. He lifted his hand up while staring towards Valentine, gesturing to him that he should try to stand up. Valentine nodded once and pulled himself up the rest of the way so that he could kneel on the ledge of the window, his back facing the rest of the surroundings, which placed him immediately in view should anyone think to look.

When Sebastian started to look towards him, Valentine's smile faltered with growing nervousness. He laughed falsely. "Are you having a pleasant day, my liege? I hope so. I know it's unnecessary, but I felt that I should extend some sort of a gesture to create some sort of kinship with you now that I'm in your service, so I've been-" Before Valentine had the opportunity to ramble any further than that, Sebastian pressed a finger over his lips. Valentine bobbed his head in understanding.

"I've been working on a quilt for you. I know most demons don't have much use for them, but I thought that even if you don't have a need for it, then the boy might, or they can be hung on the wall like tapestries, only cozier," Valentine rambled in a whisper. It seemed like if he was left to do as he chose, Valentine would have continued speaking for hours, so before that theory could be tested, Sebastian chose to interrupt once more.

"Verthosus, I have a request to make of you," Sebastian stated.

Immediately, the other demon was brought to a state of attention. His eyes widened, his head snapped, and the rest of him soon followed along with it in a manner so quick, if his feet weren't steady, he might have fallen out the window. He stayed silent for a moment, physically unable to speak. It was unmistakably apparent that he was trying, but no matter what he did about it, the words he wanted to use wouldn't make it out of his throat.

"Go into this building through the primary entrance. Find where the reaper's scythes are stored and steal one, but do not touch it directly. Wrap it in cloth if need be. Bring it back to the child's home. We shall attend to the rest, later," Sebastian instructed in as straightforward of a manner as he could, his expression unflinchingly serious while he spoke.

As soon as it was apparent he was finished, Valentine nodded. His mouth wobbled with apparent uncertainty and his eyebrows followed along, drooping downwards. It was apparent that he wanted to say something, but had no choice in the matter yet. Sebastian considered commanding him off so he wouldn't need to deal with what was bound to follow. He sighed. Even if he didn't necessarily have to let him speak, it would only lead to complications, so he'd be better off if he let him ask. "You may speak," he said.

Not even a second passed after being given permission before Valentine began to protest. "My liege, is that really necessary? I don't mean to doubt you, of course, there's no possible way I'd do that, especially not so soon, but still, if that is what you mean, how do you expect I can when they can just, kill, me…" he began to mumble towards the end of his sentence, unsure of how he could possibly phrase that in a positive and subordinate way. He shifted his hands in front of himself and looked down towards the shelf, anticipating a lot of angry yelling to do what he was told anyway.

"Risky as it may be, it is a necessary measure, and of the utmost importance for you to succeed in. This is not a circumstance in which we can afford anything less. I do hope you understand," Sebastian explained, for the most part matching expectations, with the exception of yelling. Considering that Valentine was in plain sight and they needed to be as conspicuous as possible, that would have been an exceptionally stupid thing to do.

Valentine didn't appear as if he was entirely convinced, but in either case, there was nothing he could do about it aside from smile reluctantly and agree. "Not entirely, but, y-yes, yes, I do," he resigned, hanging his head subserviently.

There was nothing more to be gained from continuing this discussion, so Sebastian gestured towards the window. "Then you may go."

Valentine's mouth twitched with evident doubt as a question crept up on him. "Yes, but, before I do, I was wondering… where is the primary entrance?" he asked hesitantly.

"I was trusting that you would be capable of determining that for yourself," Sebastian dismissed with a continual false, polished smile that made it blatantly apparent there was no point in asking for further information. If he had it, he certainly didn't intend to give it.

Valentine swallowed the urge down, steadied himself on the ledge of the window, and descended down the side of the building. He landed in a kneel on the ground directly beneath said window and took off running through the narrow crevices between the buildings towards a 'primary entrance', wherever that might be

Cian turned his head and glimpsed out the window from the side, observing as the newly-summoned secondary demon ran further into the distance. The first thought to cross through his mind was that he hadn't realized how drastic the differences in personality between demons could be. The second one, and the more prominent idea to arrive, was much more relevant to the situation at hand. Cian's eye shifted a little further across the way to settle on Sebastian, who had also been monitoring the scene outside. His eye narrowed.

"Do you honestly think that he has any chance of succeeding?" Cian asked skeptically.

When he heard Cian speak, Sebastian turned his head towards him. He smiled gently, exuding the same amount of calculated charm that was to be expected of him. "Not at all. But, as that is not what we require of him, his success is not of our concern," Sebastian answered, coolly confident as ever.

Cian scoffed. Sebastian reached across the gap between them, grabbed Cian by the wrist, and began to run into the darkness of the abandoned room. Cian stumbled as he struggled to fall into stride. After the first few steps, he caught his balance and matched Sebastian's pace, following him into the literal unknown. They had few ways of knowing where they were supposed to go, but with the right amount of time and good fortune, they had to hope they would find out.


	22. Pursuit

Chapter XXII: Pursuit

Valentine stared down the corridor. He'd meant to move, but the only thing he could bring himself to do for those first few moments was gaze further down the tunnel as he was overcome by the distinct sensation of being eaten whole. He covered his mouth with his hand and wrinkled his nose in thought while he squinted further still into the distance. His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other in search of anyone or anything that could help. To his dismay and further confusion, nothing appeared to be there.

"Where do I go? It's all so empty, I should be able to tell, but I can't. I really, really can't," Val muttered worriedly into the side of his hand. He nibbled on the edge of his finger in thought and accidentally bit into it instead. He snapped his hand away and shook both it and his head as he tried to stop panicking and failed spectacularly at doing so. "No, no, this is no time for this. I have no time for this!" he continued to mutter as he grabbed his injured hand in the opposite one and clutched it to his chest. Once again, his eyes traveled down the corridor. He nodded once, lowered his head, and started to walk in that direction.

He was about to turn around the corner when someone else appeared from the opposite side, heading in the same direction at such a rate that they would have immediately collided. Val stumbled a few steps backwards as rapidly as he could. He started to press himself back against the wall and held his breath as they approached. As swiftly as he had reacted, or at least that he thought he had reacted, there was still a heavy possibility that the unknown figure could turn away from their path, glimpse back in his direction and notice him there, and he needed to be prepared for that. He reached across the wall in search of a weapon, but paused mid-motion with a sudden realization.

Val turned his head around the corner to peek at the unknown figure. They'd already passed him by, and were about to turn around another corner into a separate wing of the never-ending maze of a building he was stuck in. He pressed his hands off of the wall, launched himself away from it, and began to chase after them. He waved his arm through the air as he went in an effort to flag them down.

"Hey, there, you! Fellow person! Hi!" Val called out towards them. He cupped his opposite hand around his mouth in the hopes that maybe, somehow, it would help with his projection. "I need to find the weapons room, and I'm really lost. Could you please help me? I'd really appreciate it—if you have the time, of course!" he asked as innocently and casually as possible.

At the sound of his voice, the stranger twisted around and stopped in their tracks. They glimpsed towards him for a moment with a notably flat stare. The second that Val noticed their eyes had locked with his, they reached towards their pocket and pulled out what appeared to be an oversized pair of garden shears. Before Val so much as had the chance to blink, they had zipped across the hallway and were pointing the tip of said shears into his neck, effectively blocking him from moving anywhere but back.

"Now, just where did you come from?" they asked him in grave seriousness. Their unflinching expression made Val's smile twitch with uncertainty.

Val raised his hand up to his hair and pulled a few strands of his bangs to the side. "You, don't need to do this, you know," he said with a trace of a nervous laugh on the end of his sentence. They pressed their shears closed to his neck in response, causing the tip to poke into his skin, but not quite drawing blood yet.

"On the contrary, it's protocol, so I think that I _do_ need to do this," they stated back, unyielding and stoic as they had been before, if not even more so. For a fraction of a second, Valentine wondered if this was what it felt like to try and converse with an animated rock, but he quickly flicked the idea out of mind with a reminder that there was a weapon prodding directly into his throat which could very easily kill him, and that wasn't going away unless he did something to fix it.

Val lifted his hands up into the air and sent the reaper a half-hearted, forced smile. "I just got back from, uhm, training, like any good reaper would each century or so, and I left my… scythe in… the vault, while I was away. But, I got turned around and I, don't know where I'm going, anymore," he struggled to explain.

The reaper continued to stare at him with the exact same, unmoving, stone-like expression that he'd been wearing since he first saw Val, and the awkwardness of that stare caused Val to stop. He reached one hand up towards the handle of the shears and tried to gently nudge them away from his neck. The second he got any sort of leeway over them, the reaper pushed the spike even closer. Valentine tried to smile back again, but he couldn't quite manage it, and the expression turned out as more of a queasy, twisted squiggle. He chuckled weakly.

"Come, this way. I'll take you where you are supposed to be," The reaper told him in a critical, distrusting sneer that made it clear this wasn't an attempt to help him. They reached a hand out towards Valentine's shoulder, but before they could take it, Valentine took two quick steps away and narrowly avoided their grasp in the process.

"Don—Please, can't we talk this through? I'm sure this is just some huge misunderstanding that we're going to figure out a few hours later and start laughing over how silly it was that it—" Before Val had the chance to get himself to finish his plea, his own thoughts had been derailed by a development he hadn't expected. While he was busy trying to talk, the reaper had reached into their jacket with their other hand and pulled out a second pair of shears. "—whoa, you have two!" Val exclaimed in shock.

They motioned to stab him through the chest. Before they had the chance to follow through, Val scurried back, pivoted on his front foot, twisted towards his right and started running as far away as possible. "Thanks for the help bye!" he explained as he left as quick as his feet could possibly carry him, with no care as to where he ended up so long as that place didn't involve being here and being killed.

The reaper began to chase after him. Val hadn't peeked behind him to see, but in this case, he hadn't needed to. He could hear the footsteps behind him more than clearly enough to figure out what was going on not that far away. If he didn't do something worth noting, then they were going to catch up with him, so Val leapt up off the ground and started sprinting as quickly as he possibly could manage.

"Okay, so, not there," he whispered to himself as he continued not to panic. To his credit, somehow Valentine had managed to find it in himself to sound casual. However, he'd needed to stop paying ant attention to where he was going in the process, and if he so much as peeked over his shoulder, he knew he was going to. In order to avoid this, he closed his eyes, and unwittingly let his face wrinkle in growing uncertainty.

"Oh, I could use two people. Really, really, would work better if I didn't have to be my own distraction," he whispered beneath his breath. Val bit down on his lower lip to stop any further complaining before it could pour out of his mouth. His face puckered with the bitterness and growing panic of it. A few seconds later, he took a deep breath, clasped his hands together, and took off at the absolute fastest speed he could. He had no idea how long he'd manage to maintain it, or how he could possibly find where the weapons room was when nothing was labeled and nobody would be delusional enough to tell him, but at this point, all he could do was try.

Cian lifted his hand away from his left eye. He blinked rapidly as he stared towards the cobblestone floor and let his surroundings come back into focus. He rubbed a finger against the edge of his right eye, slipped his eye patch back after the top of it and shifted his bands from one side of his face to the other, where it usually laid. He held his hand against his forehead as he waited for the temporary wave of vertigo to pass.

"That was, off," he whispered with the intent of speaking to himself. If the reply to follow was any indication, his intentions went ignored.

"Considering you have never attempted to do so before, that is to be expected," Sebastian told him matter-of-factly.

Cian lowered the loose charm away from his eye and clutched it in his hand. The object was still faintly resonating with the hazy glow of being actively used. He snapped his arm away from himself and extended his hand towards Sebastian. "I could have guessed," he remarked with a sigh.

"Why should I leave you to speculate when I can do you the service of being forthright?" Sebastian asked in return. He took hold of Cian's wrist and slipped the chain of the bracelet down to the level of the back of his hand. Sebastian knelt to the ground as he carefully reattached the charm to its holding place.

Cian shifted his eye towards the wall as he thought of a clever retort and let the idea pass. He didn't want to make a statement that would be inevitably reinterpreted into another quote to use against him. "We don't have the time for this," he commented back, moderately confident that there wasn't a way to use this against him—or at the very least, it wasn't an obvious one.

"Of course, sir. I understand entirely," Sebastian agreed. He released the bracelet from his grasp, stood up from the floor, took hold of Cian's hand and began to guide him away. "Follow me," he told him simply.

Cian slipped to find his footing and trailed along behind him. He glanced from one side of the room to the other as they began to ascend the spiral staircase. "So, any ideas about how we're going to find this, exactly?" he asked as he looked towards a smoking torch and stared towards the rising cloud as they rushed away from it as quickly as they'd come.

"Yes," Sebastian answered simply. It was so simple that Cian continued to wait to hear what else he'd meant to add to that. When minutes of walking through the hallways went by and they didn't, his eye twitched at the realization. "Would you care to explain how it is you're planning to do this?" he asked, genuinely curious and generally impatient to hear what he had in mind. With the way he kept looking around them and guiding the way, it appeared as if Sebastian must have been thinking something he hadn't mentioned.

It took another few moments for Sebastian to have enough attention to spare that he could respond. "Trial and error, my lord," he finally replied.

"Well, that's, overly simplistic," Cian whispered caustically beneath his breath. He rushed through his next few steps, trampling silently up the staircase to reach Sebastian's side. He stared up towards him with a mixture of curiosity and criticism. "Is there anything more specific?"

"Keep as much distance from Valentine as possible while we do so. The search will narrow as we go," Sebastian explained calmly and rationally. Cian eyed him skeptically. Sure, it sounded easy when he put it like that, completely ignoring every other aspect of the situation, including the potential hundreds of reapers that would come after them. Valentine could only serve as a distraction by being their scapegoat for so long.

"Of, another vague answer. Splendid," Cian remarked, bitterly sarcastic. He turned his head back to stare at Sebastian with growing irritation. Sebastian appeared completely composed, as usual, which only served to make him feel all the more pressure because of it. "You aren't worried at all, are you?" he asked dryly.

"It shall benefit us in no way to be, so no, I am not," Sebastian replied, sounding as collected as ever. It was a perfectly logical approach, almost frustratingly so, since it gave the added impression that he ultimately didn't care. Cian let out an impatient huff, rolled his eyes at his own over-analysis, and continued on their way. There were far more important things to be occupied with than Sebastian's approach to be thinking about something as irrelevant as that.

Cian returned his attention to his side just in time to see Sebastian come to a stop beside a closed door. He twisted his foot to the side to stop himself mid-motion and did the same. He watched as Sebastian walked up towards the door, peered through the crack in the frame, and turned his ear to it to listen. Sebastian tapped his finger against his other palm, silently counting out something or another. He pulled away, shook his head in dissatisfaction and walked away without a word. Cian took this as the closest thing to a cue as he was going to get and followed after him once more.

They continued to traverse the tower, circling each set of doors, stopping for Sebastian to listen in and inevitably moving along once more. Cian did his best to keep Sebastian's pace without complaint. It was evident enough that he wouldn't be receiving any clear explanations from Sebastian that there didn't seem to be any direct benefit for him to mention it. Sebastian turned around the next corner and veered down another hallway. Though Sebastian had let go of him, he could still hear the rate and impact of Cian's footsteps to confirm that he was there. By doing so, he was able to redirect a considerable amount of his conscious attention towards the noises in the distance he couldn't immediately identify. If he listened closely enough, Sebastian could tell where the other living beings in the area were, and chose their route accordingly. As for what he was waiting to hear behind one of the doors, well, that was no longer necessary to specify.

Sebastian set his hand flat beside the frame of the door. His fingertips paused just short of grazing against it and lingered in the empty space as he stared briefly towards it in what appeared to be a form of thought. Cian had already begun to walk away in anticipation of Sebastian doing the same when he paused mid-movement and turned back around. He stared back at Sebastian with a flash of curiosity before returning to his side. "Is this it?" Cian asked, breaking the silence.

Sebastian turned back to face him. "I am inclined to believe so, yes," he answered succinctly.

Cian's eye shifted between Sebastian and the door, then back again. "Then why haven't you opened it?"

Sebastian bowed his head slightly down in respect. "I have not because I cannot," he answered. He was going to elaborate, but before he had the chance to speak, Cian had already interjected.

"Then we shouldn't waste time standing here. Perhaps there's a window on the other side we should check." Rather than waste more time debating what seemed like a perfectly sound approach to this, Cian had begun to step away from the door. He had already turned around and started to walk away when Sebastian grabbed him by his shoulder and pulled him back.

Cian snapped his head over his other shoulder and glared towards Sebastian. Sebastian smiled apologetically back. "I would greatly appreciate it if you did not walk away in the middle of a discussion," Sebastian suggested.

"Really? I always got the impression discussions weren't supposed to have just one side to them, but perhaps that's just me," Cian remarked back. He reached towards Sebastian's hand, pulled it away from him, dropped it in front of him and looked back up to him again. "What is it, then?"

What happened next was a sight that made Cian blink in confusion just to witness it. The idea that he had spotted what he thought he'd seen was crazy, but the moment he had finished asking that question, Sebastian's expression seemed to falter. It was subtle, barely to the point where it could be seen, and it lasted for hardly longer than a second, but for that one moment, Sebastian's eyes drooped and his mouth began to curve with a frown of what just might have been worry. It was either that, a headache or mild nausea, and the latter two would be relatively normal reactions to a scenario such as this, were it not for the fact that it was a demon having them. A second later, Sebastian was back to normal, but that hadn't changed the fact that it had been there. Cian's expression flattened accordingly.

"This is really going to suck, isn't it?" Cian asked, increasingly concerned about what Sebastian was going to say next.

Sebastian lowered his head further. He took a step closer towards Cian and whispered down, but not into, his ear. "I am afraid I cannot accompany you inside. The doors are quipped to respond solely to a neutral energy. If I were to touch or cross through one, the surrounding field would recognize my presence and alert them to it instantly. You shall need to proceed on your own," Sebastian explained.

Cian had no choice in the matter, so he chose to bypass the burst of protesting and skip right towards the practical. He glimpsed back up towards the door. "And yet it wouldn't respond when I touch it?"

"No, it would be able to identify you as human should you touch it directly," Sebastian answered as if this was the most natural thing to say in the world, and didn't leave a huge gap in logic to account for.

"If that's the case, then how can I get inside it, either?" Cian asked again, suspicious of the catch that had to follow. Sebastian wasn't so stupid that he wouldn't have accounted for that, so he must have had a plan of some kind. The only problem here was that he couldn't tell quite what that plan was.

Sebastian began to reach into the pocket of his jacket while he spoke. "It should not identify a neutral aura separately from another form of neutral aura when you cross the barrier. All you need do is not to touch the door directly," he explained.

Cian responded along. He examined the door with a cautious stare. He yanked the arms of his sleeves over his hands and turned towards Sebastian one last time with the intent of saying a temporary goodbye when the sight of him made his heart leap up in his chest. He gasped silently and stared wide-eyed towards the second new development that had been the last thing he expected to see, though this time the expression was far closer to literal. Sebastian was holding a hand that wasn't his own, nor was it Cian's. It was severed somewhere around the wrist, though he couldn't identify where, exactly, since it was wrapped around the base in a bloodied scrap of fabric.

At first, Cian was speechless. He literally didn't know what he could say to this. Sebastian was standing in an inescapably close vicinity to him, extending him someone else's severed hand. He genuinely hadn't prepared for how to deal with a scenario like this. Heck, he could hardly process it past the point that, for some reason, it was clearly intended for him.

"Here, you may use this to push it," Sebastian offered, extending the hand closer as if Cian might have missed seeing it. Cian took an equal step away in reflex. He snapped his own hand back towards his chest, as far away from the severed appendage as possible.

"That's… a hand," Cian stated, far too dumbstruck by this to say anything else.

Sebastian nodded his head shallowly back in confirmation. "Indeed, that it is," he confirmed.

Cian just kept on gawking. "That's a severed hand," he stated over again, his voice and expression still flattened by disbelief.

"I believe that is what it is referred to as, yes," Sebastian confirmed over once more. He held the palm of it over his own and offered it to Cian. He stopped just short of placing it into his hand directly. "I anticipated you might require one, and procured it accordingly," he stated plainly, as if this was the most logical thing he possibly could have done and made perfect sense.

Cian's expression stayed stagnantly stunned. "Typically, when you offer someone else a hand, it's implied to be still attached. And yours, that's as well," he trailed off into further disgust and confusion. He stared down into the crevices of the palm of the other hand, wondering what could have possibly lead to Sebastian preemptively thinking that would be a practical thing to do, and that didn't even include where he must have stored it. "…how did you get it?"

"While I was restraining the reaper who confronted us, I took the liberty of removing it from his person. You were preoccupied with another matter at the time."

Cian just stared at him, not quite understanding it. "…how?"

"His weapon was already in contact with his body, so I simply wrapped his wire around his wrist. It was of little difficulty." Sebastian placed the severed hand directly into Cian's palm.

If Cian hadn't expected it to happen, he would've dropped it from sheer shock. Since he had gotten enough general warning to anticipate it, he was able to limit the response to a brief fumble to find his grip on it, and went right back to staring. "That's disgusting."

"Be cautious not to let your fingers graze against the door. The slightest contact may be sufficient to trigger the alarm," Sebastian advised. Cian sighed back. He really didn't want to do this, but the alternative was far worse, so he closed his eye while he adjusted his grasp on the hand. He tied the piece of cloth around both palms to generally align his hand with the limb, tapped the fingers beneath his hand so he could get a rough sense for how to move it, and opened his eye again so he could find a spot on the wall to place his left hand while he reached for the door. He fumbled the first few times as he struggled to find a steady grip on the handle. Finally, at least 4 tries later, he managed to place both an index finger and a thumb around the handle. He nudged his shoulder slightly in while he built up some strength and forced it open.

Cian paused to look over his shoulder at the scene behind him. He'd only intended to look for a second, but when his eye drifted towards Sebastian, his stare lingered on him. Sebastian stared back. There was another hint of concern lurking in the back of his eyes. As he started to consider the reasons behind it, Cian snapped his head away.

"I shall give you as much time as possible, but I cannot guarantee how long that shall be. Be wary," Sebastian told him.

Cian scoffed and took a step away. "I'd have more time if we weren't wasting it speaking about this and that," he retorted impatiently. Before he had the chance to be even more distracted by things that he had no reason to be preoccupied with, he marched through the door. He pushed the door shut behind him with the severed hand and closed himself off from the rest of the building, at least for now.

Sebastian stood by for a few moments longer, his watching lingering on the surface of the closed door. He sighed as calmly as he could, lowered his head in a moment of slight doubt, and turned his back to the door so he could concentrate on what he could control. He wouldn't be able to help the boy again until he got out. From this point to the exit, every aspect was out of his control, and all he could do was stand guard and hope Cian could manage.

The instant that the door shut, the room was engulfed in a wave of darkness. Cian stood perfectly still with his hands at his side, the tool still in his grasp and waited for his eye to adjust to the lack of light. He had just began to see an outline between the ceiling and the walls when the settling shifted around him. The walls themselves stayed steady, as far as he could tell. It was the lighting that shifted,

All of the sudden, a glowing orb of intense white light appeared in the center of the room. It filled the surrounding area in a sickeningly warm shroud of light. Cian shut his eye as the wave started to hit, but his response still hadn't been fast enough to keep the effect from lingering on the inside of his eyelids. He shielded his face with the inside of his elbow and slowly began to open his eye once again as he gradually readjusted to the shift. As soon as he started to see the color of his skin, he took that as a sign that he needed to take advantage of the opportunity to see clearly while he still could, so he lifted his arm away from his face and stared out into the room.

The entire room was cloaked in reflections that bounced off of the mirrors into each other to form an array of countless crevices, all of which glimmered in the light. The sole fragment of color in the entire area was the image of himself against the flattened mirrors. At first, it didn't strike him as overly unusual, until he looked up towards the ceiling and looked up at the plain floor. He'd seen this room before.

The moment of recognition came and passed into a completely different subject. It didn't matter that he knew what the room was. What he needed to do was to find his way to the next room through the mirror. His eye shifted from one mirror to the next in an attempt to search for an indentation he couldn't clearly see. No matter how he looked at it, the depth wasn't visible, so he'd need to be a little more direct about it.

Slowly, he dragged the edge of the other hands' fingertips along the edge of the wall. He kept the line within the center of the panel, where the door was sure to be no matter where it was positioned or how gravity in this room chose to work. He paced his steps with the utmost care and tread silently across the border of the glass floor while marking his own steps in his head as he went. "Door, door, where's the, door," he whispered beneath his breath. There wasn't a specific reason to be silent, but something about the stillness in the air made him feel as if he had to be quiet, or the room itself might shatter because of it. He didn't feel a thing until the moment where he ended beside the fourth and final possible wall, standing by precisely where he'd started.

"Well, that's, especially useless. And wrong," Cian whispered to himself in dissatisfaction. He turned his eye towards the floor and stared down at the glass surface to see if there was anything he'd missed on the ceiling. It was faint, so much so he could barely make out the image of the outline, but it was nonetheless there. There was a door on the ceiling. The handle was to his left. There wasn't an apparent way to get up there to reach the handle, which had a great deal of potential to be an issue, but he wasn't going to presume that just yet.

Cian took a step away from the wall towards the center of the room. He turned his head up towards the ceiling and marched diagonally across it while staring towards the outline. After about three more steps forward, he came to a sudden stop. His foot was blocked by a crevice in the floor.

Immediately, Cian retracted his last step. He stared down at the surface and briefly scanned the reflective object over until he spotted what appeared to be a smudge. He bent over at his waist, bent his knees a little, and grazed the fingertip of the dead hand against the surface of it. Sure enough, he was able to feel the piece of flesh pause when it hit against something. Though he couldn't tell exactly what that something was, he had more than enough of a guess that he was willing to try the next idea he had in mind.

He wrapped his hand around the false hand, and the false hand around the knob of the door. As soon as he had close to a steady grip, he twisted and pulled the handle up. As soon as it was close to open, Cian kicked the door at the side, nudging it the rest of the way back in the process of doing so. He stared at the edge of the opening and gazed into the darkness below, and then turned his head to the ceiling once more. The outline of the reflected door was visible, but little else appeared to be there—not even a distorted ripple between the ceiling and the door. Without a single moment of hesitance or even what most people would have referred to as common sense considering the circumstances, Cian set his false hand against the ledge, took a deep breath and climbed right through to the other side.

When he entered through the door, Cian had expected he would end up plummeting into a stack of live bees or something equally bizarre. What he found was far more unusual than that. The room was literally upside-down, and he was standing atop a concave tiled mural of the constellations in a night sky, though not just of the one he was accustomed to seeing. A series of pearlescent lines crossed through the tiles, interconnecting what appeared to be three different sets of stars that were differentiated by color. The ones that he recognized were dotted with specks of red stones, while the other two sets were in blue and yellow, respectively.

Cian shifted his eye from one side of the room to the other, looking over the shelves upon shelves that lined the walls. The classic wood molding and scent of dust in the air gave this room the feel of an old, abandoned library. For a moment, the sense of heavy solitude made him hesitant to even breathe on any of the objects he passed by. He quickly dismissed the idea as irrational and took a crooked step across the bowl-shaped indentation beneath him to approach the rest of the room. Though he was hanging upside-down, he didn't feel any sense of nausea or a pull towards the floor. It was an unusual thought for an unusual circumstance, but he was starting to get the sense that gravity didn't exist inside this room. He passed beside a chandelier that was hanging from the side of the ceiling and took a few quick steps to avoid grazing against it. He didn't think it would have done anything, but in a situation as delicate and unprecedented as this, it really didn't seem like the time to press his luck on hunches.

Slowly, Cian continued along his way by walking along the edge of the ceiling until he reached a corner between the dome and a wall. He found his footing on a wooden bar between two shelves and began to descend the side. As his feet stepped onto the pole, his perspective changed along with it. The ceiling to his side became a wall and the shelves beneath his feet the floor. The initial shift caused him to feel off-kilter but not actually off-balance. Though his mind knew that what had happened wasn't meant to be regarded as normal, his body felt completely fine. It was the task at hand he needed to be concerned with, and close as it might be, that was still an issue he had to resolve.

Cian pulled his hands behind his back and stared down at the shelves beneath his feet. Rows upon rows of weapons were all lying back against the wall. They were tilted across a ledge ingrained in the shelves; a ledge and an angle which didn't look entirely logical due to the perspective at which he was standing, but that functioned well nonetheless.

His breath caught inside of his chest as he anticipated what might follow. It had been such a crazy idea to come here that he honestly hadn't planned to get this far, so he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do next, or, more relevantly, what the weapon would do. Since a weapon was supposed to bond to a spirit, he could presume that he was supposed to touch the object with his own hand rather than the reapers', but once he held one, would that trigger an alarm as well?

The idea troubled him, but he didn't have the time to dwell on it, so he cast the potential complications out of mind and hastily untied the cloth from around his hand instead. His expression wrinkled with disgust as he handled the detached limb and struggled to fit it back into the pocket of his jacket. It took multiple shoves, one of which he couldn't help but notice included a sickening squishing noise. He shook his head, swallowed his uneasiness, and returned his attention where it belonged.

Carefully, Cian bent down on the ledge. He grabbed onto the edge of it with both sides and balanced himself on the narrow space while he surveyed the objects below. A vast array of seemingly nonsensical supplies lined the walls. Among the more unusual objects, he could spot what he would have sworn to be a weed whacker as well as the blade of a giant blender and what appeared to be a video game controller. All of them caused him to raise an eyebrow, and they looked relatively innocuous, but ineffective, and not particularly conspicuous.

Cian adjusted his hold on one side of the ledge and lowered himself into the bottom of the shelf. He walked over the crooked pole of the weed whacker and very hesitantly shifted his way through the space, marching over various blades, poles and coils as he headed on with the distinct sensation of a mouse lost in a maze it had no hopes of identifying the composition of.

It took a good few minutes, but finally, Cian came to a stop in front of something that didn't look completely nonsensical. There was an unusually shaped violin which came to two points on a single side, giving it the vague impression of secondarily functioning as a misshapen axe. It wasn't an object he would have typically held on his person, but it looked far more normal than the prospect of carrying around a crossbow or a vacuum cleaner, so Cian reached over towards it.

He started to try and pick it up, but it refused to budge from its spot. Cian blinked with what he thought that perhaps this was the answer to how he could tell if something bonded. Then, he looked over towards the side of the top shelf and noticed it was hooked onto the wall by a switch. He flipped the latch open and picked the item up from the shelf. He held it up by the neck and tried to swing it a few times. When that appeared to do absolutely nothing, he plucked against the neck, and even went so far as to run his arm across the bottom strings while doing so. He glanced around his feet to search for a bow, but didn't see one, so he laid the violin back down and decided to try something else.

Gradually, Cian continued on his way around the room. He picked up every weapon he thought he could justify owning, as well as a few he couldn't, but that had seemed worth trying anyway. Throughout his searching, he stopped to swing a tennis racket, a rake, a crossbow, a wrench, a power drill, a folding metal chair, and at one point, what had appeared to be a giant upholstery needle. One by one, he unlocked them from their holding spots, and one by one, they failed to respond. He could hold them in his hands and they didn't cause any trouble, but if he tried to hit them against the wall or open them to make them function as they were intended to, none of them left a single scratch.

As he swung the needle against the side of the shelf and the object bounced right off of it, Cian stumbled backwards. He shook his head, sighed in annoyance, and dropped the object right back down onto the shelves. He hooked it back in to its holding place for good measure and peeked up over the ledge to try and survey the room. He'd really been hoping that the potential personal significance of using a needle meant that one was going to work, but with the failure of that as well, this entire exercise was beginning to feel pretty futile.

Cian rolled up his sleeves, raised one hand to his head and pushed it through his hair. He took a step up onto the ledge of the nearest shelf and overviewed the field from all four sides of possible choices. His eye stopped on a row a few paces down which was filled with pole-shaped weapons that, strangely enough, resembled actual weaponry. His interest was piqued enough by them that he stepped back down from the ledge, climbed over the next few aisles and stepped over onto the adjacent wall to reach them. Once again, his perspective shifted as his feet found a new ground and his previous floor transitioned into yet another wall. This time, he didn't allow himself to be distracted by it, and continued on as if nothing abnormal had happened whatsoever.

He came to a stop in front of the weapon that had caught his attention most. It was a halberd. The pole was quite possibly taller than he was. He'd seen something similar to it before in illustrations, and the axe head was distinctly memorable for how it was intended to be used in its own right, but the item itself was unusual enough that he couldn't help but be intrigued. He knew he had some experience wielding pole-arm type weapons, and he'd be able to keep his opponents out of an immediate arms' reach with a weapon like this. From an analyst's perspective, with the exception of being easy to conceal, this was exactly what he'd want to have.

He reached down to the latch, unhooked the weapon from its holding spot. When he first tried to pick the weapon off of the ground, his arms sank and he began to bend over from the weight of it. He leaned backwards to readjust his balance and shifted both of his hands along the hilt of it to find a steady grip. Once he knew to expect the weight, he was able to handle it much more easily.

After he held it for a few moments longer, Cian turned one hand over the other, readjusted his stance, and swung it towards the wall. He had just built up enough momentum that he expected he could do substantial damage when a shock pulsed into his hands and coursed through his entire body. With an electric pulse, the hilt of the halberd projected itself out of Cian's hands. The residual force pushed Cian back against the nearest wall of the shelves.

A cloud of dust shook off of both sides and filled the air. Cian closed his eyes and sneezed into his elbow. He waved his other hand in front of his face in an effort to make the cloud subside. By the time he'd managed to push it aside and see what had happened, the halberd had already re-locked itself into its previous position, far outside of his grasp.

Cian reached up to the nearest shelf, found a grip on it, and pulled himself up along the ledge. He glanced down towards the halberd. "Well, evidently, that's not it," he observed to himself in a dry whisper.

He shook his head, which caused another cloud of dust to form. He pushed his hair behind his ears in the hopes that he could avoid that happening again and started to lift his eye towards the ceiling. Before he could look that far, his gaze stopped shortly to his right on what appeared to be a walking stick. The tip was made of a silver-colored substance, the hilt of a deeply colored wood, and it was topped by what appeared to be a silver skull tied with a blue ribbon around the base. From the outside, there was nothing about it that made it look like it would be a particularly effective weapon, but there was a strange sense of familiarity that he couldn't walk away from without a little peek at it.

Cautiously, Cian removed the cane from its resting place. He cradled the hilt of it in his arms for a moment, and then shifted the object upright to examine the side of it. The wood appeared to be good enough quality, but the bottom edge clearly wasn't sharp, and it wouldn't have a clear use outside of imitating a stake. While he knew from experience that stakes could be plenty effective weapons under the right circumstances, he couldn't help but sense that there was something more to it. He continued to stare at the surface with further scrutiny. Not a single blemish or notch was visible from the outside, so Cian lifted up the edge of the ribbon to check that which wasn't obviously visible. Sure enough, beneath the bow, he spotted a line that ran across the circumference of the cane. It appeared that the outside was some sort of a sheath.

With one fell motion, he pulled the bottom edge of the ribbon, causing it to unravel. He wrapped one arm around the sheath and pulled on the top of the skull with the other. He'd expected it to come loose instantly, but the top didn't budge. After a few seconds of mild surprise and a shake of his head, he let out a deep breath, inhaled again, and tried to twist it from the top instead. That didn't help either, so he tried to turn it in the opposite direction with precisely the same results. It was evident he wasn't going to get anywhere with this approach, and his arms were starting to ache from the struggle of trying, so Cian dropped them both to his side and took a short pause to reevaluate.

The moment that Cian paused moving, he began to hear something else in his surroundings. The sound was remarkably muffled, nearly to the point of being entirely inaudible. It clicked lightly against another surface at a pattern that caused Cian to suspect that they were footsteps. He ducked beneath the nearest shelf and snapped his head up so he could glimpse over the ledge while still hiding himself from most angles.

As he tried to quiet the sound of his pulse within his ears, he noticed that the sound of clicking was growing louder. Whoever it was coming from, he could safely presume that they were approaching the room. Whether or not they were going to come inside of it wasn't something he could guarantee, but in either case, it wasn't worth the risk to assume that they wouldn't, so he kept his hold on the cane, jumped up onto a side ledge of the shelf, and ran as far towards the mural wall and the exit as he could make it before he heard the steady sound come to a stop.

When the noise paused, he did as well, concealing himself away behind the nearest object, which happened to be one of the lighting fixtures dangling from the ceiling. He grabbed onto the chain by which it was hung and tried to align himself behind the golden strings as best as he could. The chain was much thinner than he was, but the crystals were a dark and distorting enough color that along with the mural, he was fairly well hidden. So long as they didn't climb too high and he didn't make any particularly sudden movements, he was well concealed. Unfortunately, that was far too many 'ifs' for Cian to feel at all secure as he watched the cloaked figure emerge from the floor below.

There wasn't a single sound of a door opening or a person walking into the room, because nobody had walked anywhere. A being cloaked entirely in white floated up through the floor into the center of the space. Their clothing billowed around them with a wave of possible wind that, in most other contexts, would have looked faked or overdramatic. He couldn't see their face from the angle at which he stood, and by relation, he couldn't see any signs of a gender, either. The only visible defining quality they had was a loose, lavender-colored braid which draped through their hood over their shoulder.

Cian swayed very slightly to his right side to watch the figure pass between the fragments of crystals on the chandelier. He could hear their feet pattering across the ground as they slowly paced along the floor that actually looked like the floor, but if he hadn't had that noise to provide some context, he would have sworn that it appeared like they were floating across the room. They gradually drifted from the center over towards one of the shelves. He still couldn't see their face from his angle, but it appeared from the position of their hood that they had to be looking towards the weapons on the shelf, presumably to ascertain that they were still in order.

As he came to this realization, Cian's grip on the cord began to relax a bit. It didn't appear as if the being had come here searching for him, but rather as if this was some sort of standard protocol to make sure nothing had been stolen or misplaced. It was still in his better interest to get out of here as soon as possible, but he wasn't being sought out specifically, and the figure wasn't starting their search on the same wall he'd taken the cane from, so he had a few seconds to spare. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, glimpsed back at the reaper to confirm that their attention was well kept and released his grip on the chandelier's cord. Once one of his hands was no longer occupied, Cian lowered himself onto his knees. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his face so he'd appear as a single dark color if they did catch a glimpse of him, stuffed the cane into the back of his jacket, tucked his legs in towards his torso, and crawled across the mural with his elbows to the surface first.

It was an even more difficult process than Cian could have anticipated for one to slowly move across a bowl-shaped surface. Even in the absence of gravity itself to pull one down, the tiles were slippery, and his legs weren't entirely steady, leading to a natural inclination for him to slide down the surface every time he tried to budge. He did his best to account for this and paced himself by merely lifting up his elbows and not putting forth a specific effort to move in the direction of the door. Since the opening was in the center of the ceiling, and thus the deepest point of the bowl, the drift happened naturally enough that he didn't need to try.

Shortly after he'd started, perhaps a minute or so after he'd begun to stop trying, Cian reached the midpoint of the room. He pulled the severed hand back from his pocket and tried to it around the edge in search of a handle that he couldn't find. When that failed, he tried to place it against the surface and push through. He'd expected that the door might begin to give way and slide open. His expectations were only half met. Something had given way under pressure, but there wasn't a door involved. Instead, his hand and the one he was holding had passed directly through the tiles onto what he could presume was the other side.

Cian's eye widened in surprise, and he nearly retracted his hand on reflex, but he stopped himself before he could. His breath caught on the inside of his throat. He closed his eyes, tried to imagine that this didn't feel like a solid object, and dipped his shoulder further in towards the floor. When he pushed further in, his shoulder passed through the floor as well. Rather than let himself be shocked by this, which was his natural inclination to do, Cian swallowed his breath, wrapped his hand on the other side of the wall and dove the rest of the way through.

When he opened his eye, he was falling through to the other side. Before he had the time to fully process what was happening, he fell onto the floor of a room which, evidently, still had gravity as well as an identifiable floor. He raised one hand to his forehead to push his hair out of his face and the other into the back of his collar to pull the cane back out.

For one single, lengthy second, he stared down at the skull atop the cane with a sense of both uneasiness and accomplishment. The room was completely still and silent, the only sign of life in the vicinity being the sound of his own pulse echoing through his head. Somehow, in some way, he'd managed to get what he sought, and he'd done it without alerting the reaper on the other end. "Well, that was strangely anti-climactic," he remarked quietly to himself. He jostled his head to shake himself out of it and returned his thoughts to the matter he was supposed to be concerned with right now.

Cian ran the fingers of the other hand across the nearest mirror until he found the crevice between the door and the wall. Once he managed to find it, he pushed against the surface to open the door.

In one smooth movement, Cian emerged on the other side. Before he'd so much as given himself the chance to think, he glimpsed the area over without really looking at it to find where Sebastian's back and sprinted to his side. He grabbed onto the back of Sebastian's tailcoat to pull himself to a forceful halt. If he'd moved into a person, there was a fair possibility they would have stumbled, but Sebastian's balance was stable enough that he didn't falter.

Cian grabbed onto Sebastian's sleeve. He exhaled deeply in relief and allowed his head to rest on Sebastian's back. He started to gather his words in his head and prepared to explain what had just happened, but before he had the opportunity to reach a coherent conclusion, he inadvertently peered over Sebastian's shoulder to the scene ahead, and any words he would have had to say were stolen straight from his mouth in a moment of shock and dreading awe.

A wall of people three faces deep lined the opening in the hallway. Every single one was holding an unorthodox weapon, all of which were prepared to strike at a moment's notice. A number of other bodies were strewn across the floor, a few of which were twitching in their incapacitated state. The only thing blocking the path between the dozens of faces was a notably tattered Sebastian, holding a fist-full of silverware in one hand and his jacket in the other. Cian couldn't make out his expression from here, but he could still spot his shoulders rising up and down as he struggled to breathe at an even pace.

As he overlooked the scene ahead, Cian's mouth began to drop open. He tightened his grip on the handle of the cane. His knuckles whitened from the tension, and the further he looked into the small army of people standing ahead, all of whom were focusing intently on him, the more the color drained from his face as well. His pulse echoed through his ears once more, and his stare fell temporarily out of focus.

"And that's, not," he whispered beneath his breath, shocked by the suddenness of this appearance but not exactly surprised that it had happened overall.

Cian wrapped his arm around his neck and climbed up the side of the wall onto Sebastian's back. He aligned his head behind Sebastian's and shifted slightly over his shoulder so he could speak into his ear. He turned his blind eye to the rest of the crowd and peered down Sebastian's front. Blood was splattered across his torn shirt, a considerable amount of which was unmistakably his. Cian had seen him doing worse before, but in most of those instances he'd been doing so on purpose, and there was no true sense of danger—not like now.

Cian reached his hand around Sebastian's neck. He pulled at the edge of his collar for support and spoke into his ear. "I think we've overstayed our welcome. We should go," he suggested in a whisper that didn't really sound much like an offer so much as a command.

Though he couldn't see much from this angle as he spoke, Cian could still spot the hint of a smile creep over Sebastian's face when he heard the remark. In a movement so slight nobody who wasn't watching for it could have noticed it, Sebastian nodded his head. He then placed one hand against the door frame, surveyed the position of the crowd, set his foot back against the wall, and with a single bound ahead, leapt over the cluster of people and onto the ground behind them. In another partially synchronized movement, the wall of people responded accordingly by turning to face the other side of the way and started to chase after them.

Sebastian turned his foot sideways to add some support while he landed cleanly on the other side. He immediately turned forward and started to sprint down the hall with a narrow lead between them and the reapers.

Cian tightened his grip around Sebastian's neck and wrapped his legs around his torso for added support. He had a bad feeling he was going to hear about doing this later, but given the scenario, he wouldn't exactly mind being taunted when at least that meant he'd be alive to hear it. "So, any ideas how we're going to get _out_ of here, exactly?" Cian asked towards Sebastian's ear.

Sebastian nodded shallowly. A reassuring, charming smile curled over his mouth. "Yes, sir. Through the exit," he answered.

Cian's expression dropped. "Well, that's just nondescript enough to be truthful _and_ not help us in the slightest, so clearly we have that going for us," he commented, his tone shifting somewhere between deadpan sarcasm and plain criticism. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at the crowd of reapers just in time to observe an arrow flying towards his head. He ducked down into Sebastian's shoulder and watched the arrow as it passed them by. "Care to hurry up on finding it?"

Once again, Sebastian nodded his head shallowly. He shifted one hand behind his back in order to secure Cian there. His eyes shut for a moment with a widening smile. "Of course, my lord," he answered, and with that, he sped off further down the center of the hallway as swiftly as his feet could carry them.

Unfortunately, that still wasn't fast enough to make it past the stairs, where yet another group of reapers were waiting with their weapons drawn and their glares uniformly set upon them. It was probably a trick of Cian's imagination to have thought it, but he could have sworn he saw them all staring directly at the cane in his hand, and not a single one of them appeared to be thinking anything positive.

As he continued to look out into the potentially insurmountable crowd, Cian was reminded of his earlier assertion, and given the new circumstances that had arisen, he couldn't help but to still agree. This truly was going to suck.


End file.
